Ulumbarra
by Idolatrous
Summary: Phryne is receiving death threats and Jack does what it takes to keep her safe.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone,_

_ Here is my first fanfiction story, in fact it is my first go at fiction of any kind ..._

_Hope you enjoy it._

* * *

><p>Phryne stood in her parlour, feet slightly apart, hands on her hips. She narrowed her eyes and gave him her most intimidating glare. "I will not run and hide from these people, and I will not be secreted away to some god-forsaken hovel to live under house arrest!"<p>

It was early in the afternoon and they were standing facing each other, both visibly tense. Jack was tired and did not want to fight. He knew this would be a challenging conversation and had dreaded it all morning, partly because he knew how Phryne would react and partly because he was still smarting from the argument with her three weeks ago when she told him about her case and asked for his help, only to ignore his advice, as usual.

But this was a conversation that could not be put off any longer. He was exasperated by her seemingly relaxed attitude to the death threats she had received and wanted to shout at her to grow up and stop being so self-absorbed and to start considering other people for a change. He sighed and rubbed his brow, trying to calm himself, knowing that raising his voice at Phryne would only make matters worse, would ramp up her indignation. He was tired of tiptoeing around her but a year or so of working closely with her, if you could call it that, had taught him what worked: confrontation, no matter how much he wanted it, was not always the best approach. He was still furious at her for agreeing to get involved in this mess in the first place, but pushed it aside, for now.

"Phryne," he said gently, with as much control as he could muster, "please, you don't know what these people are capable of." Phryne snorted. "Don't patronise me Jack. Of course I know what they are capable of; I have been practically living with them for the last three weeks."

"Please Phryne, think it through," he continued, "your life is in danger and they won't stop until they see you dead".

Phryne huffed. "Why can't I go away on holiday instead?" She asked, genuinely confused by his offer of taking her to a safe house.

"Because they may trail you to find out where you are going. If they captured you, you would be at an even greater risk with no-one around to know that you have disappeared." Jack thought he detected a flash of understanding across Phryne's face and quickly continued. "The safe house is not a hovel and is perfectly comfortable. You may not have to stay long, just long enough for us to find Roberts' associates and put them behind bars. City South are in on this now, so we have double the manpower."

"Pfft!" Phryne scoffed, now pacing the floor, hands still on her hips. "The operation had been going on for months, Jack, with the Williamstown dolts gaining no result until I stepped in. Finding his gang could also take months, even with your team on the case now. Do you really expect me to hide away for months with my life on hold?"

William Roberts was one of Melbourne's smartest and most notorious criminals, also known as King Billy, a drug importer who operated out of Williamstown on the north of the bay. The local force was in charge of establishing that Roberts was the source of a new batch of dirty opium that had been brought in from China, and had been trying to infiltrate his ring for months. They made no gains in the case and were mourning the loss of two undercover officers.

Phryne was alerted to the opium problem by her friend, Ada, who had lost her brother and two of his friends to this drug, destroying their families in the process. She wanted them brought to justice and had asked Phryne to dig a little, knowing that she knew people with questionable connections, but did not expect her to fully immerse herself in the case by infiltrating the gang. Phryne asked around and didn't like what she heard. She became apprehensive about what she needed to do to get a result, but felt it was too late to back out, and was too proud to admit she was scared. Also, Ada had been so pleased when she had agreed to the assignment that Phryne felt like she had no choice but to proceed. As a compromise, she had asked for Jack's help.

Jack was appalled at the idea of Phryne getting mixed up with these people and had tried to talk her out of it. He had firmly told her that City South would not get involved as it was politically sensitive: the Williamstown station had been tracking King Billy's movements for some time now and was getting close. He knew that although the officers from Williamstown were probably frustrated by their lack of progress and were two men down, they were very protective of their sting and resented outside involvement, especially from the likes of him, an officer who, in their view, wasn't a team player: he had single handedly exposed high-ranking officers and decent, hard-working men of the force as corrupt. And the rumours that he was involved with _that woman_ and allowed her access to his cases didn't help either. Also, he explained to her, he was too caught up in the fallout from the Sanderson–Fletcher case to devote any time to this. Phryne, of all people, should have known this: their argument had taken place just two days after he had come to her house, emotionally shattered and needing to be with her after thwarting Fletcher's sex slave ring and exposing his ex-father-in-law, only to be awkwardly interrupted by Aunt Prudence when he moved to kiss her. He hadn't had a chance to talk to her again before she told him of her undercover plans.

Phryne did know that this was a difficult time for Jack, but she was in this too deep and refused to back down. She stuck out her chin in defiance and asked him how many other people would die as a result of the distribution of this drug, and reminded him that her undercover work had solved many cases that the Victorian police force could not. Jack had to concede that this was true, but this case was different: these were very dangerous and clever criminals who had been suspected of terrorising Melbourne for years without being caught. Phryne had smirked and suggested the possibility of an inside job involving bent cops, given that Roberts seemed to have had free reign over the city for years now. This was a low blow and he was stung by her words that cut close to the bone. He almost begged her in the end, but stopped when he realised that Phryne would do it anyway. Exhausted and without the energy to fight, feeling completely overwhelmed and very alone, he stared at Phryne with a look of utter dejection. Before she could utter another word, he turned on his heels and strode out of her house, snatching his hat off the hall stand and disappearing out the door before she had a chance to stop him.

Phryne had felt that all the wind had been knocked out of her by his exit. She knew that look. Was he walking out on her again? Alter all that they had been through? She had started to question the haste in which she had agreed to take on the assignment. Self-doubt was something she was not used to feeling and the whole episode had left her feeling unnerved so she did what she always did when confronted with emotional angst; she sought a distraction and threw herself into the case. She went undercover as a recent repatriate from China. Her carefully constructed story was that she had been an opium-addicted concubine to wealthy businessmen in Shanghai, which had attracted a steady stream of foreigners to its busy ports after the war. She grew tired of this and had business aspirations of her own so she sought a cure for her addiction in one of the many private clinics that catered to westerners, which had started to spring up across the city due to their high demand. She then set up her own business, which, she had explained to Roberts once she was granted rare access, had amassed enough money to allow her to return to Australia to set up shop in her local town to provide women and opium to the reckless and wealthy. Her sassy demeanour and her smattering of Shanghainese and Mandarin was enough to convince them of her story. Roberts was a criminal mastermind who trusted no-one, but even he was not immune to her considerable charms and took a personal interest in this single, attractive woman with a keen sense for business, thereby smoothing her way to the heart of the operation and allowing her to quickly gain the information to have Roberts arrested.

Once she was in the safety of her home during the case, she had wanted desperately to call Jack, to let him know that she was (of course) alright but sensed that she would either be met with stony silence, chastised again for getting herself into such a dangerous situation, or worse, told again that he didn't want to be part of her life. No, it would be better for her to wait until she was successful in finding proof of Roberts' involvement before she contacted him. Anyway, she figured he would no doubt be kept informed of her progress from Hugh, who was kept abreast of her adventures by a steady stream of information from Dot, which she fed to her for this reason.

At the end of the case when Phryne fronted up to Williamstown police station with the evidence they needed to put Roberts away, she was shocked at the threat to have her thrown in gaol for interference. Despite his anger and acute embarrassment in being outdone by a woman (particularly _that woman)_, the DI in charge, Reynolds, a short and rather rounded man with a penchant for loud ties, acted swiftly and arrested Roberts. Facing the noose, thwarted in love and disgusted by being brought down by a woman – a lady detective at that – Roberts made sure she would suffer. His influence and reach allowed him to get messages to his men from the bowels of prison in which he ordered her capture and torture, with the ultimate aim of death. Roberts was smart, and (usually) a good judge of character. He pegged her as someone who didn't like to be told what to do so suggested threats to goad her into coming out fighting.

DI Reynolds was quick to wash his hands of the admittedly impressive but meddlesome (not to mention intimidating) Miss Fisher and Jack was called in once they discovered that Phryne had starting receiving the notes from Roberts' associates. She knew he would get involved once he learnt of the death threats, and she had steeled herself for a confrontation, not knowing what to expect. She didn't have to wait long to find out: he came over as soon as he knew with an offer to take Phryne to a safe house while the Victorian police got on with their job.

Despite the way he stormed out of her house three weeks ago when she last saw him, and her reservations about how he would greet her, she had been very relieved when Jack turned up. She looked at the concern on Jack's face and softened. He looked tired and wrung out and she had missed him terribly, not just because she hadn't been able to discuss their cases with each other, but because she missed _him_, his company. Although she hated being put in this situation, she was thankful that at least that they were talking again.

Phryne sighed and took a step towards Jack and reached out to touch his arm. "I know this is hard for you Jack. I know you are still angry at me for getting involved but I can't hide out somewhere, without contact with the outside word, not knowing when I will be able to go home." Phryne took a small step closer to him and continued. "And you know that going to the safe house will be hard for me. It's just like Collingwood; full of poverty and misery and will take me straight back to my deplorable childhood. I don't want to do it Jack. I will be locked in a house with nothing but memories and I will feel like I am suffocating. Please try and understand that. I am not being difficult for the sake of it; the thought of being stuck there just terrifies me."

Jack looked at Phryne and saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled. He looked at her, holding her gaze. Here was a woman who was seemingly fearless but was terrified of invoking memories of her childhood and the loss of her sister. He knew this wasn't an easy thing for Phryne to admit. He looked away, uncertain of what to say that would convince her that her life was in danger and that staying and doing nothing posed a real risk. He raised his head and took her hand in his. "Phryne, it is not just you that is in danger, Dot and Mr Butler are in danger too, and if these thugs find out where Jane goes to school, then she could also be in danger. They could kidnap her and hold her as ransom to get to you." Phryne sucked in a breath at his words and took an involuntary step back from Jack, slowly withdrawing her hand from his. Why had she not thought of the people who meant the most to her in the world also being at risk from her involvement? How could she have been so stupid? Jack took a step towards her and continued, before her proud resolve kicked back in. "This is big," he continued, "Roberts may hang because of you and his men will do all that they can to hurt you. Right now they are probably jostling with each other to see who takes over as leader, and your scalp may be what it will take for one of them to prove themselves worthy. Just spend some time away, send Dot and Mr Butler away and let us sort this out. Please."

Phryne looked shocked and lost for words. She looked down, shaking her head, her proud demeanour slipping away. Jack had to act quickly; he had to come up with something that she would consider before she could gather her thoughts and refuse his help again. Although sensing that what he was about to suggest could go horribly wrong, he pressed on, presenting her with another option that would seem preferable to the safe house. "Phryne, what if you went away but didn't have to go to the safe house?"

She looked at him, confused "What do you mean? I thought a trip away was out of the question. Go on," she prompted.

Jack swallowed, hesitant to continue but unable to pull out now. "I have also been told I need to make myself scarce, to take some time off because things are heating up in the Sanderson and Fletcher case." Jack paused and looked away, the mere mention of their names causing him discomfort. He eventually continued, and said quietly, "I have also been receiving anonymous threats, presumably from high-powered brothel clientele who have their reputations and marriages at stake." He looked up to see Phryne looking at him sadly. "Or from fellow officers or who feel that the disclosure of the contents of the box of mementos from the brothels will result in good men losing their jobs because of nothing more but a momentary lapse in discretion."

Phryne looked even more forlorn and closed her eyes. She felt a familiar pang of regret that her insistence on taking the case without his blessing meant that she was not there for Jack during his time of need. The shocking results of their case, Rosie's emotional needs, their thwarted kiss and now this: there was still so much to be said between them but their pride and stubbornness stood in the way.

She opened her eyes and stepped towards him. "Oh Jack," she breathed, her voice heavy with emotion. Jack was comforted to know that she may have felt the same regret at the way they last parted. He also knew they needed to talk further about this but pushed it aside and pressed on with his plan.

"I have been given the use of one of the police vehicles and told to lie low. What if you came with me? A compromise, a holiday if you like; would you please consider that?"

Phryne's eyes widened at this suggestion. Surely he wasn't asking her to go away with him, just the two of them. "You would be willing to take me away with you?" she asked, her countenance softening. "But where would we go," she asked, confused and suddenly intrigued.

Jack knew he had one shot at this. "It's a country retreat that I stay at from time-to-time. It is isolated and private but not too remote and is comfortable and safe. We wouldn't be confined to the house and we would be alone ..." His voice trailed off, as the reality of what he was suggesting sank in. He suddenly was uncomfortable looking at her and stared at the floor, blinking slowly, unsure of what to say next.

Phryne was also quiet; the thought of them going away alone with each other had rendered them both speechless. She was a little shocked at the inappropriateness of the offer, not because it offended her sensibilities, far from it, but she thought it strange that Jack, who seemed so morally upstanding, would have even entertained the idea of the two of them being alone together for days on end, let alone acted on it.

Jack lifted his head and looked at Phryne, steeling himself for her refusal. Phryne gazed back at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she smiled cheekily and broke the silence. "Just the two of us, Jack? What will people think?" she teased, but was instantly sobered by the hurt on Jack's face.

Jack slumped his shoulders and looked away, unable to hold Phryne's gaze. She had no idea of how difficult this was for him and he was tired of her not taking this seriously. He put his hands on his hips and stood upright, scowling, squaring his shoulders for a fight. His eyes locking on hers, he said angrily, "This is not a time for jokes Miss Fisher. Do you think this is easy for me? I have been worried sick about you being amongst those people these past few weeks, not hearing from you, having to rely on snippets of information from Collins. I am extremely worried about your safety and I feel that you have left me no choice: If you won't go to a safe house then this was the only alternative that I could think of." He paused, taking a deep breath to calm down, staring at the floor. "The timing is perfect and no-one will know where we have gone."

Phryne was startled by the vehemence of his outburst. "Jack," she said softly, "I don't want to think that you have compromised your integrity by feeling you have no choice but to take me with you. I fear you will only resent me if I say yes. After all, _you_ need to get away from all that has happened these past weeks. And you would probably like a break from me," she added quietly. Jack gave Phryne one of his penetrating looks and again reached for her hand, softly caressing her knuckles with his thumb. "Phryne, I am sorry it came out that way. I would not have asked you if I did not want to. Of course I know that this would be considered inappropriate, but I don't care about that," he said showing rare irreverence to societal expectations. "You are my friend, and all I care about is your safety. What sort of holiday would I have if I worried about you all the time? Let me help make sure you are safe."

Phryne knew Jack cared for her, loved her perhaps, but she was deeply moved by his words. She knew he did not take this decision lightly and wondered if this would be a game changer in their fragile relationship. She pushed this thought aside, offered him a small smile and gazed into his eyes. She let her hand drop from his and he watched her smile fade. A range of emotions played across her face and he held his breath as he steeled himself for her answer. She bit her lip, clearly weighing up the pros and cons of his offer. If it was no, then they were back to square one: Phryne refusing outright to budge or compromise in any way. Yes, and he would have to make good on his promise.

"So, where is this country retreat?" she asked.

"Err ... It's my grandparents' property near Daylesford. When they died a few years back, the property passed onto my mother, and it is now used as a holiday house by my family. I spent quite a lot of time there as a boy with my grandparents in the school holidays. It is quite picturesque and has a lovely creek running through it," he added, trying to pique Phryne's interest, knowing of her love of water and swimming. He swallowed at the image of Phryne in her bathing costume, or worse, without one, but gathered his thoughts and added enigmatically, "You could say it was my retreat from the troubles of my youth."

Phryne cocked her head slightly. She was intrigued: for all the time they had spent together, and all their shared experiences, Phryne knew very little about Jack's past. This was almost an opportunity too good to miss. And, she thought, it _was_ a compromise; her small way of acknowledging that Jack was right: she was in danger and going away without her staff would be best under the circumstances.

"So not a cottage in Lorne then," she teased again. This time Jack managed a small smile, relieved at the change in the mood, even if he was now fretting about her accepting his offer. It seemed Phryne was not the only one guilty of making hasty decisions without proper consideration of the consequences.

Phryne beamed at him and threw her arms out to her sides, slapping them down on her thighs. "Alright, I will," she smiled, chin up. "You're right: I could do with a holiday." She watched the expression on Jack's face change quickly from one of relief to dread, before he gathered his thoughts and gave her one of his more familiar, neutral expressions. "Unless, of course," she spoke slowly, looking up at him with a smile, "you have just changed your mind, Inspector."

Jack gave her a small, lopsided smile. How was it that they had argued and she had finally agreed to something that he had suggested but she still managed to act like she was the victor? Jack exhaled and tried to act as if he was relaxed about his proposition, fooling no-one. "I ... err ... good! I am pleased you have finally found some sense Miss Fisher," he answered stiffly, forcing a smile. "I think we should leave as soon as it is possible for you to organise some things for the, err, trip, and for your staff to organise alternative accommodations."

Phryne smiled at Jack's awkwardness. This was going to be an interesting few days. "Well, that's settled then," she said brightly. "Tell me what I need to bring and I will be ready first thing tomorrow morning."

Jack shook his head. "It's too dangerous to leave in daylight, Miss Fisher. I suggest that we leave late tonight so we can travel under the cover of darkness. The property is a several hours away, so if we leave at, say eleven, we should be there around three tomorrow morning."

Phryne was a bit taken aback by the speed at which this was now progressing, but decided, for once, not to argue and they discussed what she should bring with her. They agreed that she would tell no-one where she was going, that she would be safe and would contact them once she was home again. Satisfied that they had covered all that needed to be discussed, Jack declared that he should be going so he could pack and moved into the hall to collect his hat, Phryne in tow. He turned and opened the door.

"Jack," Phryne started, unsure of how to continue. Jack turned around to face her, nervously fidgeting with the rim of his hat. Was she going to change her mind?

"Thank you Jack," Phryne said softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "I am touched by your concern for me, I really am. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

Despite his smile, was that sadness that Phryne detected in Jack's expression? They gazed into each other's eyes, in only the way they could, their small way of acknowledging, but not acting on, the attraction that flowed between them. It was like gravity, gently pulling them together, only to be hindered by their fierce independence, an equal and opposite force that held them apart.

Jack nodded and squeezed her hand back before letting go to walk through the door. She watched him walk down her path, her mind already full of possible scenarios, but now was not the time for that: she had packing to do. Time, she thought uneasily; they would certainly have plenty of that.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and words of encouragement. It really means a lot to me. _

_I meant to say last time (but had first-time fanfiction nerves) that for this story to work, the Christmas special never happened ..._

* * *

><p>Jack could feel Phryne's eyes on him as he walked away, hearing her door lock as he reached his car. He scanned the street for people sitting in parked cars or evidence of anyone watching her house. Nothing. He opened the door, tossed his hat on the passenger's side and slumped into the seat, closing and locking the door behind him. Here in the quiet, he was hit with the full force of what had just happened. He gripped the top of the steering wheel with both hands and let out a sigh, lowering his head to rest on the back of his hands. What on earth had he done? He had just invited Phryne, unchaperoned, to his special place of solace; the one place he could go to that would allow him to escape the horrors of the past few weeks. What if she hated it? Rosie certainly did; her inability to understand his love and need for this place was one of the reasons they grew apart.<p>

His head still resting on his hands, Jack reflected on the impact that this house had on people, particularly on his relationship with Rosie. They had gone there together soon after they were married, Jack keen to share this special place and his love of the bush with his new bride. Things had not gone well: Rosie had refused to venture outside, citing a hatred of heat and the many threats posed by nature. Later, she accused him of overblown sentimentality when he repeatedly expressed his desire to return there with her, instead of other holiday destinations, for a much-needed break. She agreed, reluctantly, to return to the house for a few important family gatherings after Jack returned from the war, only to have her feelings of hatred towards the house intensify. The minute she walked in the door she felt in some way diminished, as if this foreboding homestead, sitting proudly on a harsh and desolate landscape, sucked the life out of her and her marriage. What started as a fissure of difference when they first met, deepened to a chasm of disconnect after Jack returned from the war and nowhere did Rosie feel this more acutely than that house. It felt like a shrine to who he was before he met her: the young, carefree man with a passion for life, whom he desperately wanted to become again.

Neither of them had the strength nor the know how to find a way to bridge this deepening divide. Rosie clung onto her hatred of the house and held it responsible, with all its memories of his childhood fun and laughter, for rooting Jack to the past and denying them the opportunity to move forward together, to live in the present. Jack never understood Rosie's dread in going to the house and begrudged her for denying him the family contact and solace that he desperately needed from the horrors of his memories and post-war existence. In the end, their differing values and deep-seated resentment only exacerbated Jack's existential crisis induced by the war, and they drifted irreversibly apart.

He sighed, slowly shaking his head. And here he was now, about to take the one person who could break him to his special place at a time when he most needed to be there alone. Conscious that Phryne may have seen him in turmoil, Jack took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. He again scanned the street. Seeing nothing suspicious, he started the car and headed home to pack.

* * *

><p>Jack arrived at Phryne's house at about 10 pm and knocked softly on her door. He was surprised when Mr Butler opened it. "Good evening Inspector. Do come in," he said, greeting him warmly and stepping aside to allow Jack to enter. "Miss Fisher is upstairs packing. I will let her know of your arrival. Please make yourself comfortable in the parlour. Would you like a whiskey, sir?"<p>

"Ah, yes please, Mr Butler," Jack replied smiling. "Just a small one though, I have a long drive ahead of me." Mr Butler smiled, and with a small nod of his head, turned to walk up the stairs to her room. He took a step and then hesitated, turning around to face Jack and taking a small step towards him. In a low voice he said, "I hope you don't think this inappropriate of me, Inspector, but I would like to express my gratitude at your insistence that Miss Fisher spend some time away somewhere safe. We have all been so worried about her lately." Jack couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Insistence? Mr Butler should have known better. Jack acknowledged Mr Butler's admission with a nod, surprised that he had confided his concerns about Phryne to him.

"And where will you go, Mr Butler?"

"I am off to stay with my sister for a while, to catch up with her family, my delightful great nieces and nephews in particular. If it wasn't for these unpleasant circumstances, I would say that I am grateful for a small break." Mr Butler smiled again and turned to mount the stairs. Jack gazed after him, wondering what it would be like to work for her. Difficult, he presumed, not because she was overbearing but because he believed that her staff deeply cared for her and would therefore spend considerable time, like he did, worrying.

Jack walked into the parlour to wait for Phryne, still feeling anxious about the days ahead. He sat down on her loveseat and stared vacantly into her fireplace, hands in his lap. A few minutes later, Mr Butler returned from upstairs, with Phryne close behind him.

"Jack!" she greeted him affectionately, putting him at ease immediately. He smiled back at her fondly, rising to greet her. They looked at each other silently, casting their eyes over each other's chosen outfit for their journey. He had dressed casually: cotton pants and a collarless shirt, jumper and jacket. His hair was still damp from a recent bath and unencumbered by the usual ointment he used to hold it immaculately in place; a small lock of hair was threatening to dry into a curl on his forehead. Phryne had also chosen well: comfortable pants, boots and a plain but warm looking blouse and not an adornment in sight, apart from a colourful shawl that she draped over her shoulders.

Mr Butler returned with a whiskey for each of them and then went to fetch her luggage. They both took a sip, eyeing each other. Phryne leant towards Jack and whispered conspiratorially, "You will be happy to know Jack, that Mr Butler has been busy all afternoon and evening preparing a hamper of goodies for my trip. We won't starve. Well, at least for the first couple of days, anyway."

Jack was considering a smart reply about her lack of faith in his abilities when Mr Butler arrived downstairs with two enormous cases of Phryne's belongings.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Planning on staying a month?" he asked, cocking his head to smile at Phryne. "It's not all clothes Jack, I have other essentials in there like sheets and a few good bottles of whiskey." Jack managed a small laugh, pleased that they would have her good liquor for their stay. "Good to see you have your priorities right, Miss Fisher," he replied, just as Dot entered the parlour, looking wan.

Dot looked at Jack and forced a smile. "Good evening Inspector." Jack nodded. "Evening Miss Williams." He replied, sensing her unease. She seemed distant, but was unsure if it was because of the worry of the last few weeks or if she somehow sensed they would be travelling alone together. Had Phryne told her?

Jack turned to Phryne. "I will take the car around the block a few times to see if I can spot anything suspicious. When I am sure that no-one is watching, I will park out the back so we can load up the car. I should only be a few minutes. Jack swallowed his whiskey and turned to let himself out. Dot, Mr Butler and Phryne sprang into action. After a short time, Jack appeared at the back door, announcing the all-clear. The car was packed swiftly, Dot and Mr Butler said their emotional goodbyes, and Jack and Phryne climbed into the car.

Jack started the car and slowly pulled away from the curb, both of them feeling anxious about their journey ahead. They both knew that their holiday, as they liked to refer to it, would forever change their relationship, but with the tensions of the last few weeks and their growing attraction for each other, neither could say for certain that it would be for the better.

At least we'll be safe, Phryne presumed, as she turned her head to watch her house recede into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you so much for your lovely reviews - they really mean a lot to me ..._

* * *

><p>They had driven in silence for some miles and were on the outskirts of Melbourne when Phryne turned her head slightly to look at Jack, who was still scanning the road for suspicious activity. The crescent of the moon cast just enough light to see the outline of his chiselled features. She watched him for a short while, fascinated by the movements of his jaw. Even in this low light she could tell he was tense. Maybe now wasn't the best time to bring this up but she forged ahead anyway. "I know it's a bit late for conditions, Jack, but …" she broke off, thinking about the best way to proceed.<p>

"Conditions, Miss Fisher?" He asked glancing at her. "What conditions?" he asked, clearly worried by what she was about to propose. "I agree; it is a bit late for that now," he added, worried that his plan could come undone before they had even left Melbourne. Phryne turned her body towards him, tucking her right leg underneath her and putting her arm on the top of their seat. "Well obviously I should have mentioned this before, Jack, but I was more than a little thrown by your offer and then distracted by the need to move quickly. This is something that is very important to me."

Jack swallowed, bracing himself for what could be another difficult conversation. "Go on," he prompted, staring at the road ahead. Phryne smiled, sensing his unease. "Firstly, I want you to call me Phryne; all the time, not just when you are concerned or angry with me. Obviously there will be times when it is necessary to address me as Miss Fisher, but not when we are alone." Jack glanced at her and exhaled slowly, allowing his face to relax into a smile. He nodded his head slowly. "I can do that … _Phryne_," he added, drawing out her last name and eliciting a grin from her. "And secondly?" he asked, knowing that she had left the serious request for last.

Phryne drew in a deep breath and continued. "I want us to talk, Jack, to really talk. If we are to be cooped up with each other then I want to feel like I can ask you questions. I want to get to know you better, and what better opportunity to do this than this special place of yours?"

Jack was quiet, contemplating Phryne's words. It was true that despite their closeness he had not revealed too much of himself or his past. Although Phryne's understanding of him was pieced together from the snippets of himself that he occasionally revealed, usually after a whiskey or two in her parlour, he suspected that she had a better appreciation of what made him tick than just about anyone else. He turned to her, to see her gazing intently at him. "Alright, Phryne, let's talk, but we have to both want it. You can't force someone to talk if they feel they are being coerced into it. I don't want to be interrogated."

"Is that what you think I will do? Interrogate you?" Phryne asked in disbelief. "I know I can't force you to talk, Jack," she said softly, looking at the hands on her lap, "but I want you to want to talk to me. This is what friends do," she continued, then added softly, "and I worry that although we will be there together, I will feel utterly alone."

"Phryne," he said softly, glancing at her. He knew that admitting that she was worried about feeling lonely and isolated would have been hard for her and he suspected she was also worried about feeling out of place. "Please don't fret, we won't be 'cooped up' with each other and there will be plenty of time to talk. I'm not going to ignore you; we both know that you are impossible to ignore," he added, smiling. Phryne huffed out a small laugh, grateful for his attempt to lighten the moment. Jack focused on the road ahead, still checking for signs that someone might be following them. "It's late, why don't you try and get some sleep. We have a long drive ahead of us."

Phryne looked at Jack again and smiled. She was starting to feel more at ease than she had for the last few weeks and she felt the urge to continue. "Alright Jack, I will try, but there is something I need to say first." Jack again glanced at her, his smile slowly fading. She took a breath and started on this first attempt at openness between them that she was so keen on cultivating. "I … I want you to know that I am sorry Jack … about the argument that we had," she added quickly. She knew he would want her to acknowledge that what she had done was stupid and reckless, but she did not want to broach _that_ subject again; the last time they did it was emotionally wrenching for both of them. "I feel terrible about not being there for you the last few weeks," she finally managed.

Jack, recognising the significance of the moment, braked slowly and brought the car to a stop on the side of the road. Phryne apologising for her actions and the effect they had on him was a new development in their relationship; one that he was thankful for, but also slightly uncomfortable with. He turned his body towards her to give her his full attention, his eyes seeking out her expression in the muddy light. "I should have contacted you," Phryne continued. "I wanted to but was afraid you would not want to talk to me. When I think of what you must have been feeling after all that happened, not knowing if you had anyone to talk to, I …" Phryne shook her head slowly and looked away, not knowing how to finish the sentence. She wanted to say that when he had told her of receiving his own threats, her heart had ached for him. She was not about to give up what she did best, but she acknowledged that her insistence on pursuing her own venture that caused them to fight meant that she had not known what he was going through, had not known what part Rosie was now playing in his life, and she had not been there for him as a friend. Despite the tension between them caused by their argument, all she had wanted to do was go to him and gather him into her arms, to soothe him and let him know that everything would be alright and that she was there for him, always.

But she couldn't bring herself to say it. So much for openness, she ruefully thought to herself. She felt it was too soon for this sort of declaration so she settled for something more prosaic. She raised her head to look at him. "I want you to know that as your friend, I will always be there to talk if you need to. To listen, not to interrogate," she added, forcing a smile.

Jack leaned a bit closer and took her hand. She looked wracked with remorse, no doubt exacerbated by the late hour and the stress of the last few weeks. He swallowed and thought of what to say.

"Phryne," he started, also unsure of how to continue. "It's been a difficult few weeks for us both. I too am sorry about the argument. And I missed not being able to discuss our cases with you, but it's alright, I'm alright now. I think the next few months will be difficult for me, so I am grateful that I can go to the country and I am happy that you agreed to come with me." Jack was suddenly thankful for the dim light that denied Phryne the chance to properly read him by studying his face. He wasn't quite lying: he was certainly relieved that Phryne had agreed, but he was still unsure about how their relationship would be affected by this trip; they were both fleeing certain danger only to plunge headlong into dangerous uncertainty. "We'll talk more," he continued, "but let's do it tomorrow; we have a long drive ahead of us." Phryne nodded, thankful that their guarded admissions of regret had somewhat lightened the mood between them. Jack gave her a brief smile and released her hand, turning the wheel to pull onto the road.

They were doing that more often, she thought to herself: touching each other. They may have shared some angry words recently, but something had changed between them. They seemed closer and had touched each other more than usual today. Was the aborted kiss from a few weeks ago the catalyst that triggered the gradual dissolve of their reservations that allowed to them to express their affections more freely? Feeling too tired to contemplate that one, Phryne reached behind her to get her pillow. She put it against the window and snuggled into it, trying to empty her mind of the last few weeks. Despite the turmoil she felt at the uncertainty of the days ahead, she eventually drifted into sleep.

* * *

><p>Jack had been driving for hours and pulled over for a short stop about half way there to have a bit of a stretch and relieve himself. When he got back in the car he glanced at Phryne, who was pressed up against her pillow, fast asleep. He quietly shut the door and turned to look at her again. She was snoring softly. He smiled. She looked so small, so vulnerable. This was the first time he had seen her asleep and he was unprepared for the depth of his feelings. He longed to touch her, to stroke her hair, to run his hand down her arm, to kiss her gently. He wanted to whisper in her ear that despite his anger and frustration with her, she was his closest friend; more than that: he loved her. He sighed, overwhelmed by his thoughts and the tiredness that was threatening to overcome him. He awkwardly pulled off his jacket in the confined space and laid it gently across her shoulders. Rubbing his face with both hands and forcing himself to focus on the drive ahead, he started the car and continued the journey.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you lovey readers for your reviews and words of encouragement. It has been very satisfying to write this, to get it out of my head and I am so pleased that you are enjoying it too._

_I hope you are coping with the slow pace of this story. It seems appropriate for the two of them, I think, given the slow burn of their relationship._

_FYI, the Shakespeare quote is from _The Merchant of Venice_._

* * *

><p>Jack braked gently as they came to the bend in the road that signalled the nearness of the property. Continuing slowly through the mist, he scanned the dark road ahead for the turnoff to the homestead. The mailbox at the entrance to the drive was illuminated by the car lamps and he felt a small of twinge of excitement surge through him, just as he did as a boy, knowing that his country adventure was about to begin. Confident that no-one knew of their whereabouts, he turned into the drive and slowly continued to the homestead. He wound down his window and sniffed the brisk, eucalyptus-laced air. Memories of his childhood blew over him, lifting his spirits and ruffling his hair. He couldn't help but smile, already feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. He glanced at Phryne, who was still asleep, propped up against her pillow. He was finally thankful that she had agreed to accompany him.<p>

The homestead emerged slowly from the mist and loomed before him. Although he had done this drive many times, he was transfixed as the familiar features revealed themselves in the light from the car. He pulled to a stop just in front of the porch, gently pulling on the handbrake and quietly opening the car door. He stood and stretched and looked at his watch: just on three. He stood there in the stillness and quiet to drink in this house, this place of happiness.

_… __soft stillness and the night  
>Become the touches of sweet harmony …<em>

Shakespeare. He had always loved that line and couldn't think of a better way to describe this special time of darkness, which he had cherished in the years after the war. It was his time for solitude and deep contemplation, where he could distance himself from the war in the present, which bombarded him with torment and battles and disapproving looks, and retreat into the past. It allowed him, finally, to be completely himself, and only then could he heal. Nothing was expected of him when he sat in his yard in the dead of night with only the chirruping crickets for company. Here, he unashamedly wallowed in the horrific images that inevitably haunted him, giving freely to tears until he crawled exhausted and alone into bed, knowing he had temporarily quietened his ghosts.

Feeling the familiar pull of the hour, he closed his eyes to let the stillness wash over him. He noticed that he was starting to sway. Overcome with exhaustion, he longed to climb into bed, to put the day behind him. He glanced at Phryne to see if she was still asleep and shuffled to the porch to unlock the door, flicking on the lights in the entrance hall and a lamp in the living room, allowing himself a quick perusal to make sure nothing had changed. Satisfied, he went back outside to collect their luggage from the car, still careful not to wake her.

After depositing his case in his room, he decided to put Phryne in the larger of the guest rooms, next to his. It contained a large brass bed, was close to the bathroom and there was a lovely view out the window to the hills beyond. He knew Phryne had brought her own sheets, which were no doubt superior to the ones on the bed, so he went to her suitcase to find them. He undid the buckles and paused, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of rifling through her belongings. Confident that she wouldn't mind, he flipped open the lid. The sheets sat neatly on top, no doubt packed by the ever-practical Dot, who would have known that her sheets would have been the first thing needed upon arrival in the early hours of the morning. Jack smiled, almost disappointed that he wouldn't get to rummage through her underwear. He quickly made the bed and turned to wake Phryne. He froze and drew in a sharp breath: she was leaning quietly against the door frame, watching him, her hair in disarray and her face creased from sleep. She had put on his jacket, the cuffs extending beyond her arms, which she had tucked around her body.

Jack let out his breath. "Phryne, you scared the living daylights out of me!"

"Did you think I was a ghost, Jack? A house this old, with all its history might harbour a spectre or two," she said smiling, gesturing towards the rest of the house with her head.

"Hardly, more like an escapee from the local asylum," he answered cheekily, raising his eyebrows and looking at her wayward hair. He walked towards her and grabbed hold of the arms of his jacket, lifting them up and away from her to sway the cuffs that extended beyond her arms. "You could have been wearing a straitjacket." He let go of her arms and they dropped to her sides, causing Phryne to grin at his unexpected playfulness. "I hope you don't mind," he continued, gesturing towards the bed, "I took the liberty of taking your sheets from your case so I could make your bed for you. I was just coming to wake you."

"Of course I don't mind, Jack," she said, still smiling and smoothing down her hair. She walked towards her luggage, rolling the cuffs of his jacket. "That was very thoughtful of you," she said, rummaging through her belongings, "especially given how much I have slept and how tired you must be after the drive. Let's unpack the rest of the car quickly and I will make you tea ..." Phryne located one of the bottles of whiskey that Mr Butler had placed in her bag for protection on the journey. She held it aloft as if to tempt him, " … unless you would prefer a nightcap."

Jack looked longingly at the whiskey. "It's late, Phryne, I should unpack the rest of the things first. Your bed is ready so you can get some more sleep."

"Nonsense!" Phryne huffed. "You are not here to wait on me, Jack. I am feeling quite awake now. Here, let's have a small drink to celebrate our arrival, and then we can both empty the car. It will be faster that way and then I can get you into bed …," Phryne faltered, aware of the unintended double entendre of her remark, "… you must be exhausted," she added awkwardly.

Jack twisted his lips to hide his smirk. "Alright, just a small one," he replied. "My bed already has sheets, so there's not much else to do besides bringing in Mr Butler's supplies. Let's go and toast the beginning of our holiday."

Phryne beamed at him, and walked to the kitchen to root around for some glasses, refreshed from her snooze in the car and feeling strangely upbeat about the days ahead, their angry exchange in her parlour already forgotten. She took the glasses and whiskey to the living room and poured them a drink while Jack went back to the car to retrieve the rest of their belongings.

The car now empty, Jack carried the heavy hamper to the kitchen and placed it on the large table. He opened the lid and looked for something to eat, suddenly famished. "Are you hungry, Phryne?" he called. Phryne joined him in the kitchen. "Actually I am, Jack. What have we got?" They rummaged together, like excited children at a lucky dip, discussing the suitability of the food they discovered until they came across some cake. "Perfect," Jack said, turning and collecting some plates. They took the cake and a knife to the living room and settled themselves into one of the large lounges positioned around a low coffee table in front of an enormous fireplace.

Although there were three lounges to choose from, they sat together: Jack at one end and Phryne close to the middle. Jack was surprised by how near she had seated herself next to him, but he felt comfortable with her closeness and kicked off his shoes to put his feet on the coffee table, stretching out and pushing back into the lounge. Phryne smiled to herself, marvelling at how quickly Jack had relaxed here, or was that exhaustion? She handed him a plate with a piece of cake, which he bit into greedily, chewing slowly and smiling from the deliciousness of it. "I do believe it's a citron pound cake," Phryne explained, "and knowing Mr Butler, it was made with a fair slug of brandy."

"I'll drink to that," Jack said, his mouth full, lifting his glass for a toast.

She raised her glass and added, "To cake and whiskey." They clinked glasses and looked at each other, both feeling like they were being drawn into one of their meaningful gazes. Jack seemed to sober slightly and added, "And to safety, and good country air." Phryne smiled, again clinking her glass with his. They ate in silence for a few moments. Jack downed his whiskey and placed his empty glass and plate on the table. He leant back and closed his eyes, sighing softly.

Phryne picked up the empty plates and glasses and took them back to the kitchen. When she returned to the couch, Jack was still stretched out, hands in his lap and eyes closed, his head turned slightly towards her. She watched him for a short while, wondering if he had fallen asleep. "Jack?" He didn't answer. Phryne prodded him softly. "Are you awake?" No response. Phryne decided to leave him there until she had packed away the rest of the food and was ready to go to bed herself. It was comforting to have him close by, even if he was asleep.

She busied herself in the kitchen, trying to distract herself from her desire to snoop in all the rooms to acquaint herself with Jack's past and the history of the place. She had already decided that she liked this house; a quick glance around the rooms she had moved through had revealed a much-loved family home: a vase of flowers, although a bit past their prime, had greeted them in the entrance hall; the rooms seemed to be dust free and well appointed, and the walls were festooned with art. The mantelpiece in the enormous living room was crowded with what looked like relics from nature: bleached animal bones, birds' nests, and artfully arranged twigs covered in lichen. The kitchen was large and seemed to be well stocked and she was amazed to see the latest model refrigerator. Who in his family could afford that? She realised how little she knew about him or his family. She would ask Jack for a tour in the morning, suspecting he would happily oblige.

After packing the supplies away, she made her way back to the lounge room. Jack had not moved. She knelt on the edge of the lounge and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. "Jack, wake up, time for bed." There was no response. She tugged a little harder at him. "Jack!" He opened his eyes and gave her a glassy-eyed look. "Time for bed Jack, come on." Jack stirred and sat up, but instead of standing he flopped sideways onto the couch, bringing his legs up to push himself up the other end so he could stretch out, grabbing a cushion for a pillow. "Jack, no, wake up, you'll be more comfortable in bed." Phryne reached over again and shook his shoulder. Sighing in defeat, she sat next to him, close but not touching, feeling the warmth from his thighs on her back. She looked at him sleeping; his left arm was curled under the cushion supporting his head, his right arm was extended along his body. His mouth was slightly open, his features relaxed. Gone was that slight frown he seemed to carry with him lately.

She tugged at his shoulder again, more forceful this time. "Jaaaack … wake up, you'll be more comfortable in your bed."

"Mmpf."

He seemed to be coming to so she shook him more forcibly. "Jack, come on, let's get you up and in bed." Jack stirred, looked at Phryne and mumbled something incoherent. "Stay here … fire …" Phryne leant forward and shook him again. "What, Jack?"

"Phryne," he whispered, drawing out her name, his eyes still closed. He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her suddenly into his folded body. Phryne froze, her eyes wide, not knowing what to do or say. She was firmly pressed against his abdomen and groin.

Jack made soft guttural noises as he snuggled into her. Phryne held her breath and waited to see what he would do next. He stilled and started to breath heavily again, relaxing into a deep sleep and loosening the grip on her waist. His hand slowly slid down, wedging between his thighs and her backside.

Phryne noticed that her heart was beating a little faster. For one thrilling second she thought that he was going to seduce her. She removed her arm from the back of the lounge, which she had placed there to brace herself against his sudden pull, and placed it softly along his body, her hand on his shoulder. He wouldn't be waking up any time soon, she was sure of that now, so she allowed herself some time pressed up against him, her thumb softly caressing his shoulder. She had stolen furtive glances at him in the past, he was an attractive man after all, but now she had an opportunity to really take him in and she allowed her eyes to roam freely over his body. She gazed at his handsome features. She had always appreciated the male form, a particularly good specimen invoking urges in her that she usually managed to satisfy. She smiled; Jack Robinson was a _very_ good specimen.

She reached out and pushed back the hair from his forehead, her fingertips gently brushing his skin. Her eyes moved from his thickly lashed eyelids to his parted lips, and she fought the urge to bend forward and kiss him. She looked away sharply in an attempt to quell her growing desire. She had always found him attractive, even more so as they had grown closer, but a dalliance was out of the question; she cared for him too much and it could jeopardise their friendship and professional relationship, which were very valuable to her. Besides, he had already declared his deep affection for her and the pain that it caused him, so she knew he would never agree to a night or two in her bed. So why then had he moved to kiss her? Had she misread his actions? Phryne thought not: she knew intent when she saw it.

She sighed and attempted to push aside her complicated thoughts but without a distraction she found herself again drawn to his body. He was so lean, more so than usual, no doubt due to the stress of the last few weeks. She twisted to look at his hand resting gently against her backside. His hands were large and masculine; strong looking but elegant with long, tanned fingers. The whiskey was having an effect on her now and she let down her guard, shifting a little to place her hand on his forearm, running her fingertips slowly down his arm to lightly trace the prominent veins of his hand. Her gentle strokes, the whiskey and the heat from his body increased her arousal. She imagined his hands touching her, moving slowly up her bare skin, caressing her and pulling her closer …

She was breathing heavily now, and the noise of her breaths in the quiet of the night brought her back to her senses. She rose abruptly, feeling embarrassed and smoothed down her clothes, as if to brush away her lascivious thoughts. She needed to get to sleep too, and went to fetch him a blanket. She gently placed it over his body, tucking it in around him. With a deep breath and another brief caress of his hair, she pushed aside all previous thoughts, turned off the lamp and took herself off to prepare for bed.


	5. Chapter 5

_I was curious about Jack's knowledge of mistletoes (even if the genus he attributed to the mistletoe in the Christmas special was European - tut tut MFMM), so I wove it into my story._

_This is a longish chapter as I am about to get ridiculously busy and may not be able to post another chapter for a few weeks. I will try. _

_Thanks again for taking the time to leave me a review. I am always delighted to get them._

* * *

><p>Phryne woke to the sound of a quiet knock on her door. "Good morning, Jack" she said sleepily, stretching. "Come in". Jack opened the door and stood there with a cup of tea in his hand.<p>

"I wasn't sure if you were awake," he said, peering at her in the darkened room and seeing his jacket slung over the end of the bed. "Well, I am now," she said smiling.

"I thought you might like a cup of tea," he said, clearly uncomfortable about entering her room.

"Oh how lovely, Jack. Please come in," she said, sitting up a bit. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," Jack answered smirking, walking into her room and placing the cup of tea on her bedside table, trying not to look at her in her nightie. "I see I didn't make it to my bed last night."

"No, although you can't blame me for not trying, I tried to wake you several times."

Jack nodded, "I must have been fast asleep, I don't recall a thing," he said, glancing at her with a smile.

"If my translation of mumble is correct, you said you wanted to stay in front of the fire."

"Ah," Jack nodded, looking a little worried that he had talked in his sleep. "I used to love sleeping in front of the fire when I was a boy, surrounded by my family. There's nothing quite as comforting as falling asleep listening to chatter. Did I say anything else?"

Phryne smiled, "No, just a few grunts. Have you been up for a while, Jack?" she asked quickly, changing the subject to avoid the memory of last night and a possible blush. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven, and I have been awake just long enough to have a cup of tea and then make you one, so I am feeling quite refreshed."

"Did you wake me because you were bored?" she said, smiling up at him cheekily. Jack looked at her properly now, taking her in with as much of a neutral expression as he could muster. She was propped up on her elbows, her face was free of all makeup and slightly swollen from sleep, her hair in glorious disarray. He thought she looked utterly beautiful.

Suddenly aware he was gazing at her, he strode to the window and drew back the curtains with a flick of his wrists. "No, I am never bored here, but I am looking forward to taking you on a tour of the property. It is a beautiful morning," he said, turning to face her and watching her squint from the sudden brightness of the room.

Phryne looked out the window. The wooded hills in the distance were framed by a large gum tree with the blue of the sky asserting itself between the branches. "What a lovely view!" Phryne exclaimed, her eyes bright. "A walk sounds lovely Jack. I am looking forward to you showing me around, starting with this lovely house of yours."

Jack's heart skipped a beat at her comforting words and he smiled at her, wondering if she would ever know how much that meant to him. He watched her reach for her cup of tea, her satin nightie stretching tightly across her chest, revealing the outline of her breasts. He exhaled heavily and turned to look out the window, pretending to contemplate the weather. This gave Phryne a chance to sneak a peek at his own delightful dishevelment. They were silent for a few moments, both lost in thought, moved by seeing each other looking sleepy and tousled. Jack broke their silence, "I suspect it may be a hot one, so I thought we could have stroll to the creek, maybe even have a picnic lunch there, and a swim, if you feel up to it."

Phryne's eyes widened in delight. "I would love to go for a swim, Jack," she enthused, her mind full of memories of Jack in his swimsuit. "So tell me," she said slowly in a low voice, looking at him seductively, "do we need to wear swimsuits or is skinny-dipping encouraged in this creek of yours?"

If Jack was in any way flustered with the idea of Phryne in the nude (which he most definitely was), he didn't show it. He knew she was baiting him and raised an eyebrow at her; two could play that game. "I will be wearing my swimsuit, Phryne, but you may do as you please," he calmly responded. "You are on holidays after all, and the creek is very private." He cocked his head at her and gave her a suggestive smile. Phryne felt the blood drain from her extremities and she leant back against the bedhead. Jack couldn't help but smirk, "I'll let you get dressed," he said quietly as he walked out the door, enjoying this game and feeling more than a little smug that he had rendered her speechless. He shut the door behind him, leaving Phryne to ponder this new playful Jack.

Phryne skipped out of bed and dressed. She decided to wear a plain sleeveless dress that came to just below the knee. She chose sandals but didn't put them on, deciding to test the boundaries of their new relaxed arrangement and go barefoot in the house. She pulled out her toiletries bag and placed it on the dressing table. She sat on the stool and looked at her reflection, smiling at the thought of Jack seeing her now and last night with her hair all askew. She didn't bother with perfume or make-up, but dragged a brush through her hair, taming it into her more familiar bob.

Phryne opened her door and walked down a short corridor to the living room. She stopped and looked in wonder at the transformation. The lamp last night had cast a soft glow over the lounge where they sat but the rest of the large room remained quite dark. The two sets of full-length curtains that were drawn last night on what she presumed were windows were pulled aside to reveal two sets of French doors, now wide open and leading to a large verandah that was raised about head height off the ground. Jack was seated in a white wicker lounge, his feet up on a low table, a thick book in his lap held open by the splay of his left hand. His right arm was resting on the arm of the chair. His hand was relaxed and dangling over the edge, accentuating the veins that Phryne had caressed with her fingers the night before. He wasn't reading, but was staring off into the distance, his body angled away from her so only his jawline and outline of the right side of his face was visible. His wayward hair tumbled over his forehead.

Phryne was so taken with the scene that she padded softly back to her room to retrieve a brown leather case from her bag. She opened it and removed her camera, quickly and quietly making her way back to the living room in the hope that he hadn't moved. She was in luck.

She got herself in position, looked through the view finder and twiddled some knobs.

_Click_.

Jack immediately turned to see what the noise was. "Sneaking up on me and taking photographs, Phryne?" He asked with mock indignation.

"Singular, Jack. I only took the one. And don't worry," she teased, "I got your good side."

Jack snorted a laugh, flashing a rare grin. "I wasn't aware that I had a _bad_ side. I'll have to make sure that I keep you on my right at all times."

"At all times, Jack?" Phryne asked sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Jack tilted his head to look up at her through slightly squinted eyes; one of his more playful expressions.

"May I see your camera?" Jack asked, closing his book and extending his arm to her.

"Of course, it's the latest model Leica. Not too many people in Australia would have one of these," she gloated, passing it to him. "Are you interested in photography, Jack?" She asked, moving to sit next to him on the lounge.

"That depends on the subject matter, Phryne" he answered, letting his gaze linger on her longer than necessary. "I am not fond of mugshots, but I appreciate photography as an emerging art form."

Phryne watched Jack explore her new camera and then turned away to take in the view. It really was very beautiful. A grassy gentle slope in front of the house merged seamlessly into sparsely treed woodland. Further down the hill the trees became denser and taller, until the terrain rose sharply into a steep, wooded hill with large outcrops of rocks. "Jack, you were right, this is so picturesque! I can see why you like to escape the city for some quiet time here."

"It's not just the city I escape from when I am here, Phryne," he said enigmatically, giving her one of his meaningful looks, "and yes, it is very special."

"Well then," she said suddenly, slapping her thighs. "I am starving, so how about you take some photos of this beautiful view for me while I prepare brunch. Can I tempt you with another cup of tea, toast and Mr Butler's apricot jam?"

"Thank you, that would be lovely, Jack smiled. "I think after eating we should have a quick tour and then a late lunch by the creek. Are you still up for a swim?"

"Just you try and stop me, Jack Robinson," Phryne smiled.

* * *

><p>Jack walked down the steps of the porch to stop by the car, turning to face the house. Phryne followed, still without shoes and wincing at the sharpness of the stones on the drive. When she reached him, she turned to look at the house.<p>

It was low and wide, built from the local bluestone with sandstone trim around the doors and tall windows. A deep verandah encircled the house. Climbing roses, heavily in bloom were wound up the wooden posts that supported the corrugated iron roof. There were two garden beds either side of the drive leading to the steps that were full of plants that looked a bit tired, as if they had endured a tortuous summer. Phryne smiled, "Jack, it is utterly charming!"

Jack grinned, clearly delighted. "My mother's parents built it in the late '50s after emigrating here from Scotland in search of gold."

"They were some of the lucky ones?" Phryne asked intrigued. Jack nodded. "Yes, my grandfather hit a seam and made a small fortune. Enough to build this house, and they set it up a guest house after the gold dried up. My grandmother loved this place, particularly the mineral springs and saw a business opportunity. She went to Melbourne to advertise the guest house and the supposed healing properties of the natural springs and they had a steady stream of visitors and income for most of their lives."

Phryne looked at the name plate next to the door. "Ulumbarra," she said slowly. "Sounds like an Aboriginal word. I would imagine it would have been unusual to use an Aboriginal word to name a homestead. What does it mean?"

"Yes, it is an Aboriginal word: it means 'meeting place' in the local language, although I like to think of it as a place where people come together. My father met my mother here. He was working for the government surveying the surrounding land for timber and stayed here as a guest. They discovered they shared an interest in the country and fell in love. Luckily for us, they came back regularly here with their children and now their grandchildren. That's what this house did: it brought people together." Jack paused and looked at Phryne. "It still does", he smiled.

Phryne looked up at him fondly. She had not expected to feel so comfortable here, alone with him in his family's home. She had worried that he would be awkward and reticent, resentful that she was holding him back from being himself and denying him the chance to truly relax. She was surprised and delighted with how quickly he did relax here, as if he had suspended his guarded and sombre personae with the coats by the door, where they hung, not entirely discarded, for him to slip into if needed. It was barely day two of their time here together and Phryne had found him to be playful and unexpectedly flirtatious. She was feeling more drawn to him now than ever.

"My mother was heartbroken to leave here and live in Melbourne, but they travelled back here regularly." Jack continued, oblivious to Phryne's ponderings. "As children, we spent most of our holidays here. We were lovingly neglected and spent most of the time exploring the bush, or swimming in the creek. My mother is a botanical illustrator, and when she came here with us, she would take me along on her expeditions to collect specimens for her drawings. I was the only one she took, as my brothers and sister were older and louder and more interested in other things like reading or tormenting the wildlife." Jack smiled and turned to Phryne. "It made me feel special," he added quietly.

Phryne was moved by Jack's recounting of his happy childhood and again reflected on the change in him since being here. In the time she had known him, apart from the time at this house, she had not seen him laugh out loud and had wondered if he had also suffered as a child. She was so pleased to learn he had grown up in a happy, loving household. "Your childhood sounds lovely, Jack. How lucky you are to still be able to come here and bask in those memories."

Jack smiled back at her. "Yes, it helped after the war, but I didn't get here as often as I wanted to. Rosie hated this place."

"Oh Jack," Phryne said softly, and reached out to briefly squeeze his hand. "What's to hate?" she asked incredulously. Jack smiled at her and shrugged. "Towards the end of our marriage I think she realised that I loved being here more than with her. Anyway," he continued, not wanting to think about Rosie or her present predicament, "my parents renamed the house after my grandparents died to honour the local Aboriginal people. My mother struck up an enduring friendship with some of them, and she learnt a lot from them about the plants she sketched: their Aboriginal names, how they used them, which ones were edible and which were poisonous."

Phryne remembered the drawings when she came in late last night. "Did she do the drawings in the entrance hall?"

Yes," Jack answered, moving towards the house to show Phryne his mother's art. Jack stopped in front of one that was just inside the door. "This is my favourite," he said. "I have made my mother promise me never to sell it."

"She sells them?" Phryne asked intrigued.

"Yes, they are quite collectible now and she fetches good prices for them. Now that she is retired, she is slowly selling them off to pay for the upkeep of the house and their retirement. It is a shame to see them go, but I am heartened that other people can enjoy them now. She has a few in the State Library and the herbarium at the Botanical Gardens in Melbourne."

Phryne looked at the drawing more closely. "Such exquisite detail!" she said, running her fingers over the frame. Jack was clearly moved by Phryne's appreciation of his mother's art. "She is considered one of the best botanical artists in Victoria," he said proudly.

"And did you or any of your siblings inherit your mother's skill?" Phryne asked, watching him closely. Jack looked awkward, "I used to draw a bit when I was younger," he finally managed.

Phryne decided not to press him on that and turned to look again at the drawing. "The leaves look, to my untrained eye, like gum leaves, except the flowers are all wrong."

Jack smiled. "Well spotted, Phryne. It's not a gum tree but a mistletoe, the one in the tree outside your window, in fact. Many of the mistletoes in Australia mimic their hosts, which I find fascinating."

Phryne looked amused. "Hosts? The trees don't exactly have a choice, Jack. The poor things have unwanted parasites that can't be dislodged; something the tree is shackled with forever, suffocating and sucking the life out of them. How awful. Do they kill the trees?" she asked, curious now about something she had always taken for granted.

Jack looked at Phryne and thought about her words; how like Phryne to see it that way. He looked wistfully at the drawing. "The mistletoe is hemiparasitic, actually, so it doesn't draw all its sustenance from the tree. And no, it's not in the mistletoe's interests to kill the tree. If the tree dies the mistletoe dies too." Botany lesson over, he turned to Phryne and added, "I don't see the mistletoe the way you do. I see a marriage, or partnership, if you like: the tree having the strength to support the mistletoe; assisting it to exist. Different entities joined by the need to survive. And besides," he said looking again at the drawing, "the flowers are very beautiful and the birds love them."

Phryne turned to face him, a look of surprise on her face. "And here I am, Jack Robinson, thinking that your romantic musings would be limited to Shakespeare. Did the Bard write about mistletoe?" she asked, teasingly.

Jack took a deep breath and stretched out one arm, as if he were about to deliver a sonnet, and said in mock seriousness,

_The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,_

_Overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe._

Phryne roared with laughter. "Oh Jack, it seems that the even Shakespeare is on my side."

Jack smiled, delighted to make her laugh like that. "Yes, I agree, it's not the most flattering portrayal of mistletoe. Even I thought I could do better than that."

"You think you could write a better poem than Shakespeare?" Phryne teased, stepping closer to him.

Jack watched her sidle up to him with a small smirk on his face. He knew what she was doing: hoping to ruffle him with her closeness like she did in the past when she sought the upper hand in a discussion that was not going her way. He leaned in even closer, their noses almost touching. "I think I could write a more romantic poem about mistletoe, not necessarily a better one, Phryne," he whispered, enjoying watching her eyes widen with surprise.

Phryne took a small step away, letting out a breath and sticking her chin out. "Well then, there's your challenge, Jack. If you can write a romantic ode to mistletoe, then I will change how I feel about it. In fact," she added, "I rather think you may have already destroyed the romance of mistletoe for me: I will always see it as a botanical oddity rather than an opportunity to elicit a kiss from an unsuspecting victim."

Jack took a step towards her, closing the gap again, "Have you lost your sense of romance, Phryne? I am quite sure it could be restored with just the right kiss." Jack smiled, turning to walk away for the rest of the tour. He paused at the door to the living room and turned to see her standing there, staring at him. "Are you coming, Phryne?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Phew! I made it through my difficult patch ..._

_This chapter is for RCGgymratmom, and anyone else that has had the good fortune to spend some time at a country retreat._

* * *

><p>Jack spent the next half hour or so showing Phryne photographs of his family. They were scattered all over the house so Jack led her from room to charming room to introduce her to all his siblings (all older: two brothers, Walter and Daniel, and a sister, Grace), his parents (Catherine and James) and grandparents (Emily and Charles), uncles and aunts and (eight) nieces and nephews. She was amazed to see how closely he resembled his mother and wondered if they were alike in personality. She left this question for another time as she was eager to go for a swim.<p>

"Come on Jack, let's go for a swim. I have been looking forward to this all morning. If you find me a small basket, I will make us some sandwiches." Jack didn't need much convincing and sprang into action. After finding a basket for Phryne, he took himself off to his room to change into his swimsuit. He shut the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed, needing a moment or two to reflect on the morning.

Jack smiled as he relived some of their earlier conversations. Their intellectual sparring was a central part of their relationship and had slowly changed over time to become more personal and flirtatious as they got to know each other better. Although he had relished seeing her uncharacteristically flustered by his suggestiveness this morning, he had surprised himself and wondered if he had gone too far. He had let down his guard with her, he knew that, but he was unsure exactly what had managed to loosen his emotional armour, which over the years had become so rusted on it was in danger of becoming a permanent fixture. Was it just that he was here? This house, this place, always made him feel less vulnerable and more alive, but there was something else: something had changed between the two of them. He didn't have a lot of experience with lovers but he was a damn good detective and it had not escaped his attention that she was looking at him differently lately; not to mention those spine-tingling touches, which were happening more often than usual. He knew she was fond of him and enjoyed his company – she wouldn't have invited him into her parlour all those nights for a whiskey and a game of chequers if she wasn't – but was it possible that her feelings for him had changed? For the first time since he had known her, he thought it possible that she might be capable of loving him. The dangerous combination of this revelation, his aching desire for her, which had seemed to intensify the moment he had arrived at the homestead, his waning resolve, and being alone in the house together meant that he was doing all that he could to resist pulling her into his arms for a kiss.

He sighed. And now they were going to the creek for a swim. If there was anything that was going to test his fragile resolve, it was this. With a fair dose of trepidation, he got off the bed to change.

* * *

><p>Jack and Phryne left the house to walk down to the creek. They had their towels slung over their shoulders and Jack was carrying a small picnic basket while Phryne carried their picnic rug. Phryne talked about her concern for Mr Butler, Dot and Jane as they walked arm-in-arm through the tall grass of the paddock, and was eager to know if they were all safe.<p>

"Don't worry, Phryne," Jack said softly, "I am sure they are alright. I asked Collins to make sure they got off safely and gave him instructions to call Mrs Stanley that morning to make sure Jane was alright too. And Miss Williams and Mr Butler agreed to call Collins after they had arrived safely. I was planning on cycling into town after our swim to ring the station and check on everyone and the progress of your case."

Phryne was moved that he had planned this so thoroughly so she wouldn't worry and smiled up at him. She let out a sigh of relief that she would soon know that they would be safe and squeezed his arm affectionately. "Thank you, Jack, that is very good of you."

After a short while, they came to a wooden fence at the edge of the woodland. Jack put down the basket and climbed over with an ease that revealed years of practice. Phryne handed him the basket and rug and climbed up, taking Jack's hand at the top, not because she needed his assistance, but because she wanted to continue their contact. She nimbly jumped down, landing softly beside him. They allowed their hands to stay entwined for a short while as Jack led the way, until the narrow track forced them to walk in single file and they slowly and reluctantly untangled their fingers. After a short while, the track widened, allowing them to walk closely side-by-side again, their shoulders and arms occasionally bumping.

Phryne was taken aback by the beauty of the woodland. The tea-trees that grew either side of the well-maintained track grew up and over, their canopies merging to create a tunnel effect with enough dappled light to support a sparse grassy understory. The occasional tall gum trees had beautiful white trunks marked with intricate lines made by insects. Small birds tweeted softly around them, their calls growing shrill as they neared. Small ferns grew in the damp and the occasional mauve daisy bloomed between the tussocks of grass. Phryne stopped and slowly turned around, taking in this beautiful place. She turned to Jack, her eyes shining and a wide smile on her face. "Jack, this is absolutely beautiful!"

"It most certainly is, Phryne," Jack said, smiling back at her. He was immensely relieved that she felt comfortable here, more than that, she seemed to delight in this place and he couldn't stop his smile from spreading to a grin on his face.

They walked along in silence for a short while, both enjoying their closeness and the sounds and smells of the bush. Phryne could hear water up ahead and turned to Jack excitedly. "I can hear the creek Jack! It must be close." Jack's heart melted at her childlike enthusiasm and watched her jog a short distance ahead, stopping at the break in the tea-trees to take in the view. A small flowing creek cascaded through large rocks to fall a short distance into a clear pool that was about the size of her parlour. Trees lined the banks with overhanging branches that provided shade on part of the pool. Ferns grew under the trees, softening the edge of the creek. The water was tea coloured and clear and Phryne could see pebbles lining the bottom. Small schools of fish darted in and out of the shadows.

Phryne spun around to face Jack. "We're here!" she exclaimed. "And it is more beautiful than I imagined." She looked at Jack with wide eyes then suddenly smirked. "Last one in is a rotten egg!" and she turned on her heels and raced to the clearing by the pool to undress. Jack was caught off guard by her unexpectedly playful challenge, but recovered quickly to race after her, his long strides allowing him to make good ground. As he reached Phryne, she had already pulled off her dress and was leaning over to work on her shoes. Jack dumped the rug and basket and pulled off his shirt, levering his shoes off his feet at the same time. They were huffing and giggling as they struggled to undress, both determined to be the first one in and loving the game they were playing. Phryne was finally free of her shoes and socks just as Jack was about to take off his trousers. Seeing that she was about to make a run for the creek, he pushed her backwards and she toppled, wide eyed in shock, onto her backside. Phryne gasped. "Jack, you dirty scoundrel!" Jack was grinning now as he stepped out of his trousers and turned to run to the creek. Phryne stuck out her foot, tripping him and sending him flying face down onto the grass. Phryne jumped up, whooping in delight and raced to the creek, managing to avoid his desperate grab at her ankles. She raised her arms in victory as she ran into the shallows, where she froze and gasped at the coldness of the water.

She started to turn to speak. "Jack, the water is freez …" She suddenly felt his arms wrap around her and the momentum of his run tumbled them into the water. They surfaced, spluttering and gasping from the shock of the cold. Phryne's hair was plastered on her face. She pushed it back and Jack was relieved to see her grinning. She squealed in delight and pushed at the water with both hands, sending a spray into his face. Jack chuckled and grinned from ear-to-ear, smoothing down his hair. Phryne was still a little surprised by his tactics, but she couldn't help but smile at him looking so happy. He really was lovely when he smiled like that. It was worth the shock and the cold just to see him like this.

They stood close to each other in the pool, laughing and getting their breath back. Jack slowly moved closer to her, half expecting her to splash him again. She looked longingly at his broad shoulders just out of the water, his hair pushed back off his face. He really was gorgeous. "You surprise me Jack; I wouldn't have thought you were a win-at-all-cost man and certainly didn't expect you to play dirty."

"Whatever do you mean, Phryne?" he asked in mock indignation. "I helped you get into cold water, and don't forget that you also played dirty and tripped me, so I think we are even. And, we both made it into the water at the same time, so neither of us is the rotten egg; fair play, I say."

Phryne huffed at him playfully, "I believe you pushed me first, Jack, and if that was fair play then I would really like to see you play dirty." She looked up at him through lowered lashes, a small smirk on her face.

Ah, flirting again, Jack thought. They seemed to be unable to have a conversation nowadays without some element of suggestiveness. Jack looked at her quietly, entranced by how lovely she looked: smiling and wet with her hair slicked back. This was Phryne at her most pure; she had nothing to hide behind here in the pool: no clothes, no fineries, no perfume, no distractions. They stood in the water a short distance apart, gazing fondly at each other, both of them wanting to pull the other into their arms, to feel their skin next to their own and the warmth of their bodies pressed up against each other.

Jack felt the first twinge of arousal and sighed quietly, pushing back to float, feeling the need to break the spell of their gaze and thankful for the extra layer provided by the modesty flap on his bathers. He stretched out his arms and put his head low in the water and he distracted himself by gazing at the trees that grew out over the pool. Phryne watched him silently, unable to drag her eyes from his body. She swam up to him and turned to float next to him. Jack turned his head to take her in; her alabaster skin contrasted beautifully against the weak tea-coloured water and he found himself having to look away again.

Phryne turned to him. "You are forgiven, Jack," she said, "for now," she added as he turned his head to look at her, narrowing her eyes at him in mock threat as she started to drift away from him in the slow current. "Lucky for you I am too distracted by how beautiful it is here to think about revenge," she continued. "I feel like I am floating in paradise!"

"I am glad you like it, Phryne," he said, reaching out for her hand to slowly bringing her closer. "There is something special about floating, isn't there? It's hard to feel worried about anything when you are utterly weightless. When I came here with my brothers and sister and sometimes cousins, we would all come down here together and float in a big ring holding hands so we could drift together in the current. It's actually harder than you think."

"Show me," she said softly. Jack looked at her for a few moments, before releasing her hand to stand and move behind her. He again pushed back to float, the tops of their heads almost touching. He stretched out his arms, which were bent at the elbows.

"Put your arms out Phryne and give me your hands. The trick is to relax so we don't drag each other's hands under the water." Phryne turned her head to see where his hands were, softly holding them and relaxing her arms. They stayed like this for a few minutes, neither willing to say anything that would break the magic of the moment; they were revelling in the sensation of floating in this beautiful place, alone, hand-in-hand. Phryne felt herself move closer to Jack. Was it the current or was he pulling her closer? They slowly drew nearer, Jack manoeuvring her so they floated with their heads side by side. They drifted slowly toward the bank and floated apart a little, turning their heads to look at each other. Jack noticed that Phryne was starting to shiver.

"Phryne, you're shivering. We should get out of the water to warm up," he said, thankful for the opportunity to break the intensity of their gaze.

"I am a bit," she admitted hesitantly, not wanting to get out of the water.

"Well, let's go and rescue our lunch from the ants. There will be plenty more opportunities to go for a swim."

They reluctantly got out of the water and walked to the picnic basket. They gathered their towels and clothes that were strewn around the basket, both of them smiling from the memory of their tussle as Jack spread out the rug. Phryne flopped down with a contented sigh, still in her bathers and wrapped in her towel. She couldn't remember feeling so content. Jack sat down next to her and hummed in approval when she handed him a sandwich with his favourite filling, smiling at the thought that she may have asked Mr Butler to specially pack the ingredients. They ate in silence, relishing the warmth of the dappled sun on their bodies after the icy water.

Phryne was keen to know about her loved ones so she ate quickly and started to gather her clothes. Jack raised his eyebrows at her. "Yes, I know I am rushing, Jack. As much as I love it here, I really do, I am very keen to know how everyone is. Can we come back tomorrow?" He nodded, happy to oblige; he was also keen to see if any progress had been made on hunting down the rest of Roberts' gang.

They dressed and packed up and walked quickly back to the homestead. Phryne showered and Jack retrieved what looked like a much-loved bicycle from under the house, which he tinkered with in preparation for his ride. When he was ready, he went to the verandah, where Phryne was reclined on the lounge with a drink. "I'm off, Phryne," he said, sounding a little concerned. "I am sure you will be safe here but listen out for anything suspicious. I won't be long: I should be back in an hour or so." Phryne smiled at him gratefully and reached out to touch his arm to show her gratitude. He was moved by her gesture and was tempted to lean in to kiss her goodbye, as lovers would do. He took her hand instead and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "See you soon," he said quietly. Their eyes locked in a gaze. He gently lowered her hand but neither of them moved to let go. They stayed like that for a few seconds, looking longingly at each other, both aware of the quickening of their breaths. Jack slowly withdrew his hand and nodded, turning to walk out the door.

Phryne heard the click of the door and the soft crunch of tyres on the gravel as he cycled away. She sighed heavily and stared at the hill opposite. Something had to give between them, neither of them could go on this way, she was certain of that, especially not alone under the same roof. She knew she was starting to feel deeply for Jack, and as much as she had enjoyed their flirtations, she was starting to feel anxious. She had tried not to give their changing relationship much thought over the last few months; not even allowing herself to name her deep feelings for him. To do so would mean she would have had to acknowledge their existence, making them real. But she was uncomfortable with feeling deeply about anything; it made her feel like she was losing the control that she had worked so hard to develop as protection from the heartache of loss and the emptiness and panic she felt from being controlled.

There were many things that Phryne was good at but dissecting her emotions was not one of them; she would rather express them in more pleasurable ways, although she suspected that Jack wouldn't indulge her in that kind of discourse before they conversed more conventionally about the terms of their relationship. So what was the nature of her feelings for him? Over the last few months, she had convinced herself that her deep feelings for him were the result of what felt like an aeon of mutual attraction that had resulted in a physical longing that was so strong it had started to warp her judgement. She felt it was this that allowed her to question her long-standing principles and entertain the idea having a relationship with Jack and Jack only. But Phryne Fisher had promised herself that she would not give herself to one man, and there was no way in hell she would marry. So why was she feeling so tormented?

Phryne put her head in her hands and ran her fingers through her still damp hair. He had been gone two minutes and she was already uncomfortable alone with her thoughts. Was it any wonder that she always favoured a dalliance? A pleasurable distraction: that's what they were and that's what she needed now. She stood up quickly and went to look in the bookcases that were either side of the fireplace. She cast her eyes over the titles but found herself wondering which ones Jack had read and what he had thought of them.

Phryne stood upright and huffed out a breath. Despite her need to think of something else to distract her from her emotional torment, she found herself drawn to the photographs of him that were scattered throughout the house. She looked longingly at him as a younger man. There was a photo of him in uniform before he left for the war, looking particularly handsome; one of him holding an infant, presumably his niece or nephew; and many of him in big family gatherings. She was particularly moved by the one where he had his arms wrapped around his mother, his cheek pressed against hers. He was so firmly ensconced in her life, but she was only just starting to understand the life he had before meeting her. He seemed carefree and happy, and she felt like she had missed out on not knowing him then. She found herself pleased that there were no photos of Rosie and she wondered if this was his choice. She thought of how sad he must have been to see his marriage dissolve, and how happy he had seemed here with her. He had revealed a playful and affectionate side of himself here that she had hoped existed; one that she was struggling to resist. Feeling raw and emotional and moved by the images of Jack before her, she cracked; she couldn't pretend any longer: he was in love with her and despite the turmoil it caused her, she finally acknowledged that she loved him. She smiled to herself. That wasn't so hard, was it? She sighed, but what now? He was due home soon, hopefully with good news so she moved back to the verandah to await his return.

Phryne was enjoying listening to the birds when she heard what she thought was Jack returning. She jumped up and rushed to the entrance hall to greet him at the door. She had a moment of trepidation when she realised it might not be him, but let out her breath when she heard a key in the lock. Jack opened the door to find Phryne looking expectantly at him. He smiled at her, "Everyone's safe, Phryne, and I have learnt about some interesting developments in the Roberts' case."

Phryne let out the breath she was holding and found herself lurching towards him. She pressed herself against his body and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh Jack, thank you," she whispered. Jack was momentarily shocked but he recovered quickly and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. They rocked together gently for a few moments with Phryne's head nuzzling his chest and his face in her hair, until Jack withdrew from their embrace slowly, holding Phryne's upper arms and stepping back a little to create some distance between them. He smiled at her lovingly. "I think a celebration is in order. Let's have a drink on the verandah and I will tell you what I have learnt, but first I must have a quick shower; I am dripping with sweat."

Phryne reluctantly nodded, she had not planned to fling herself at him, despite the emotional frenzy that she worked herself into in his absence, but once in his arms she had found herself very aroused by the warmth of his body and the smell of his sweat and was incapable of pulling away. She tried to regain some composure. "I'll pour us a drink while you, shower," she managed finally with a small smile, moving quickly away and trying not to dwell on the significance of their first embrace.

Jack watched her walk away with a small smile on his face. He slowly shook his head; he had really pushed himself on his bike on the way back in an attempt to subdue some of his sexual urges. He had dismounted feeling hot and dripping with sweat but was looking forward to giving Phryne the good news. His feeling of calm was undone immediately by the feel of her in his arms for the first time and his body was quick to respond to her closeness. As much as he wanted it, he felt it was not an ideal time for seduction so he gathered what little resolve he had left and reluctantly broke contact.

* * *

><p>Jack emerged from his room feeling good. He was freshly showered and in clean clothes and was feeling relaxed from his hard and fast ride back to the homestead. His heart rate was still faster than normal, but he knew what had caused that, and it wasn't the ride. He walked onto the verandah and moved around the coffee table to sit next to Phryne. She was sitting on the lounge close to the door, her feet tucked under her and her knees angled towards him.<p>

"Well, Jack, what have you learnt?" she asked, completely composed and recovered from the thrill of their embrace.

"Collins took Miss Williams and Mr Butler to the train station this morning and he assured me they weren't followed. He rang your aunt, and Jane is at school and is being discretely chaperoned at all times, so she is safe. Phryne let out a breath and smiled at him. He looked at her and smiled back, reaching for her hand to give her a reassuring squeeze.

"The other thing that I learnt is that since Roberts' arrest, the remaining gang has been killing each other in an attempt to gain control of the operation, and many of them have been fished out of the Yarra. It makes our job easier, but I still worry that you will be the ultimate prize. I don't think we are out of the water yet. "

His use of 'we' did not escape Phryne's notice and she reached for Jack's whiskey to pass it to him so they could clink glasses and toast the safety of her loved ones. They took a sip, eyeing each other. Phryne was the first to talk. "Well, I can't say I am sorry that they are bumping each other off. They are a particularly nasty lot. Good riddance, I say."

Jack looked at her. They still hadn't spoken about her hare-brained idea of going undercover with these thugs, but he was reluctant to bring it up and cause friction. "Yes," he responded. "I am not sorry either, but let's toast the safety of Jane and your staff," he said smiling, raising his glass. "Here's to relaxing."

They both took a sip, their eyes locked. Phryne smiled. "I am already feeling remarkably relaxed here, despite the inconvenience of having a price on my head. You seem relaxed too, Jack. In fact, I don't think I have seen you this relaxed before, you seem ...," she paused, trying to find the right word, worried that she would offend him by insinuating that he was usually, as Aunt P had put it, more dour, "… content," she finally settled on.

Jack puckered his lips as he contemplated her words. "I do believe I agree with you," he said looking in her eyes, his demeanour becoming more serious. "I have found today to be most enjoyable." He smiled at her, that gentle smile of his that she loved so much. "Also, I was rather pleased and relieved you didn't hate it here given that you were brought here under duress. This place means a great deal to me and I was worried you would resent me for bringing you to a place that is so unlike the world that you know and are comfortable in."

"Jack," Phryne said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "It pleases me no end that you care enough about me to invite me to your family home, just the two of us. I know that would have been hard for you. It's not exactly the right thing to do."

"Keeping you safe is the right thing to do." Jack replied placing his hand on top of hers and caressing her knuckles with his thumb. "That matters more to me than all else, and besides, who is here to judge?"

"Nobody is here except us, Jack." Phryne said softly looking into Jack's eyes. "And I like it that way." Jack gazed back at Phryne and wondered what she meant by this. Was she saying she wanted him and him only? Phryne saw a hint of confusion in his features and reached up to touch him lightly on his cheek. Jack slowly blinked and turned his face towards her hand and kissed her palm, his own hand coming up to press her hand to his lips.

Phryne's eyes widened and she skipped a breath as Jack continued to kiss her hand slowly with wet, opened-mouthed kisses. He kissed slowly up to her fingers, closing his eyes for each kiss then gazing at Phryne with dark eyes in between. Was this really happening? Surely they wouldn't ...

"Oh!" she gasped, as he gently pushed her forefinger inside his mouth so his tongue could softly caress the pad of her finger. She no longer bothered to hide that she was deeply aroused; as far as she was concerned they had reached a point of no return. Jack's licking and gentle sucking of her finger was incredibly erotic, her heart was racing and she was breathing heavily.

Phryne moved towards Jack slowly, still unsure of whether he would come to his senses and reject her advances. When Jack saw Phryne lean in for a kiss he stopped sucking her finger and threaded his hands through her hair to pull her closer until the tips of their noses were touching. Phryne waited, wanting Jack to initiate the kiss as he had done earlier with her hand. She didn't have to wait long: he drew her to him and tenderly pressed his lips to hers.

When they kissed, nothing and no-one else existed. It was as if the world stopped around them: the birds, usually so vocal, fell silent; the breeze blew through the trees without sound. They were completely lost in the moment. How could so much feeling, love even, be conveyed by such a gentle press of the lips? They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, savouring the moment.

Jack was first to respond. He pulled away slightly and then kissed her again, this time with more pressure and lips slightly more open. Their lips, when they met again, spoke of unexpressed feelings; they had so much to say to each other from years of longing and pent up emotions. They came apart slowly, only to join again in a kiss that was longer, more intense, until they locked in a kiss that spoke of nothing but lust, their hands in each other's hair, drawing each other in. Their tongues were lovingly caressing and gentle at first, then more forceful as their arousal grew, thrusting deep into each other's mouths. Their gentle breaths turned to pants, fuelled by their racing heartbeats.

Phryne hitched up her dress to straddle Jack's lap, their lips still joined. She moaned when she felt his erection and pressed against him, her hips moving gently. Jack sharply exhaled and pulled her closer. Their desire for each other now becoming urgent and they rocked against each other on the lounge.

Jack broke the kiss, hands either side of her head. He gently pushed her away from him to look at her. She was opened mouthed and panting, her eyes barely open. Her lips were swollen from kissing and her hair in disarray, and she was just how she looked all those times he had ravished her, alone in his bed or at his desk late at night. He pushed them forward to the edge of the lounge, his strong thighs lifting them both upright, Phryne still wrapped around him. He relaxed his grip on her and she slowly slid down his body, lowering her legs to stand. He looked into her eyes. "Phryne," he breathed. His voice, shaky and husky, was full of emotion.

Phryne gazed back at this beautiful man. She wasn't worried, she knew he wasn't going to reject her, to turn and run like he had before; no-one kisses you like that and then walks away. She smiled at him lovingly as he gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly, one arm around her neck and the other on her lower back, pulling her closer. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her when his lips touched her flesh. Phryne moaned as he worked his way up, with slow, wet kisses, back to her mouth, both of them returning to the passion of their kiss before standing.

Jack again broke the kiss and stepped backwards, trailing his hand down her arm and entwining his fingers in hers. He took a few steps backwards, their eyes never leaving each other's, and gently pulled her towards the house. When he came to the doorway, he turned, his fingers twisting in hers, and he slowly led her to the bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

Jack led Phryne into her room, turning to face her and reaching for her other hand. They stayed like this for a short while, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, voicelessly acknowledging the significance of the moment until Phryne could take it no longer. "Jack," she breathed, and pulled him closer, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I have wanted this, you, for so long now." Jack closed his eyes and nodded and let out a sigh. He gently ran his fingers down her cheek and along her jaw. He lifted her chin and leant forward to kiss her, pulling her to him so he was pressed against her.

Both of them were reluctant to loosen their hold on each other after wanting this for so long so they continued to kiss by the bed. Jack ran his hands down Phryne's back to cup her backside and pull her against his erection. He felt her hum in pleasure. He inched up her dress with his fingers so he could run his hands over her thighs, their mouths never breaking contact. Phryne felt his mouth still as he let out a breathy moan and savoured the silkiness of her skin. His hands moved up to her knickers and he slid his fingers under the hems to caress her backside, gently trailing his fingers down the divide of her buttocks, just stopping frustratingly short of curving his fingers under.

Phryne's breaths grew more ragged. She desperately wanted to feel his hands on her body, in her body, but for once couldn't bring herself to dictate the order and nature of the seduction; it was if she had surrendered her body to him. His hands and his kisses were slow, agonisingly slow, but it felt right for them, given how long it took them to get to this moment. No, this was not something she was willing to rush.

Jack tugged at her dress and Phryne responded immediately by reaching down and helping him gather it, lifting her arms so he could pull it off. They worked quickly on getting her knickers down and she stepped out of them, flinging them aside with her foot. She stood before him completely naked and he took a step back so he could look at her.

Phryne was unprepared for how he hungrily gazed at her body. He stared at her with an intensity she had not seen in him before as he let his eyes drift slowly over every part of her. His breathing was rapid now and he suddenly tilted his head back with a grunt and closed his eyes, as if the vision of her naked before him was too much to bear. He brought his head forward to look at her again, stepping closer and pulling her to him so he could kiss her again and feel every part of her. He ran his hands all over her body; he was so aroused he felt dizzy, intoxicated: drunk on the feel of her.

Phryne broke the kiss to reach up and unbutton his shirt, desperate for her turn to look at him and feel his body. Jack slowly came to his senses and took over, quickly undoing the buttons while Phryne worked on his trousers. They worked together to swiftly remove his clothes until he stood before her in his underpants. Phryne slowly moved forward and dipped her hand inside the band of his underwear to brush the back of her fingers just above where he wanted to be touched; two could play that game. Jack closed his eyes and let out a breath but did not move to take them off. He reached for her to pull her into a kiss and exhaled sharply as she caressed him through the cloth of the underpants.

He slowly shook his head at the intensity of her strokes and reached for her hand to gently pull it away. "Come here," he whispered. He took both her hands in his and gently pulled her to the bed, positioning himself in the middle and pulling Phryne down with him. She knelt beside him and was moved by the expression on Jack's face: love, lust and disbelief. She removed his underpants and Jack watched her eyes widen with lust as she looked at him naked and ran her hands down his body. He was desperate to feel her, all of her and pulled her on top of him, both sighing with pleasure at the feeling of their naked bodies, finally, finally together.

They kissed again, this time with a hunger neither was expecting, their tongues thrust deeply into their mouths, their bodies moving against each other. Jack rolled them both over so he lay atop her. She drew up her knees and pulled at him as a prompt for him to position himself, but he wasn't quite ready for that. He wanted to explore her body further, with his hands and his mouth but neither could drag themselves away from their kiss.

Jack slid off her to prop himself up on his left elbow so he could run his hand over her body. He gently caressed her breasts, startling a gasp from her with a firm squeeze of her nipple. She responded by turning her body towards him to press her hips against his. Their frenetic breathing forced them to stop kissing but their lips were still touching, both of them feeling the need to maintain intimacy. Jack gently pushed her body away so he could continue to feel her. He ran his hand down her abdomen to her knee in one sensuous stroke and back again, his fingers moving slowly to the inside of her thigh to tease her on the way up. He wanted to increase her arousal but was in danger of losing himself in her softness. She arched against his touch and moaned in frustration. Her hands were in his hair and on his neck, keeping him as close to her as possible. He caressed her just below her bellybutton, wanting to bury his head in her feminine belly, but not bearing to take his mouth from hers. He continued his stroke down the other leg, caressing her knee and eventually moving his hand slowly up her inner thigh.

Phryne was incredibly aroused. She panted against his mouth and squirmed against him in the hope that his hand would move higher. He slowly continued until his hand came to the top of her thighs, his fingers gently brushing against her, his mouth still on hers.

"Oh, Jack!"

She spread her legs further making it easier for him to explore her. He gently ran his thumb all the way up her and moaned at her wetness.

"Christ Phryne, you feel … you feel amazing. God I want you!"

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She wanted him to talk to her, to hear his voice again but she was so lost in the feeling of his hand, his gorgeous hand, caressing her that she couldn't find the words. He continued to stroke and explore her, his own arousal increasing as she reacted to his touch and when he could bear it no more he shifted again and gently pushed into her.

Phryne gasped at the sensation of him pressing slowly and deeply inside her. She was unprepared for the pace of Jack's movements and they moved together as one, their bodies tightly entwined. They kissed in between pants, their faces still pressed closely together.

Phryne felt overwhelmed by their closeness: it was almost too intense. She had taken many lovers and considered herself an expert on achieving sexual gratification, but there was an intimacy with Jack that she was sure she had not experienced before. Sex to her was a game, a fun diversion, a bolstering of her self-esteem and affirmation of her sexual prowess and power over men; but here she was reminded that sex could be more than all that: it was also an expression of love and never had she felt this more deeply than now.

Jack moaned her name. Their pace was quickening and she could feel the beginning of her orgasm build and then flood through her. She cried out softly then stilled, pulling his hips to hers, twitching and panting against his mouth. "Jack," she breathed. She opened her eyes and held his face away from her so she could watch him climax. She knew he was close and watched as a small frown appeared on his face quickly followed by a look of surprise. She was mesmerised. He stiffened, then grunted quietly at the intensity of the orgasm, exhaling sharply and he slowly relaxed to gently lie on top of her, his forearms taking most of his weight. He dropped his head into Phryne's neck and she listened to his ragged breathing and felt his heart beat strongly. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and then gently ran her hands up and down his back with long, loving strokes. Overcome with emotion, she felt the first tingle of tears and shut her eyes tightly, thankful that Jack could not see her face.

Jack shifted against her, turning onto his side and bringing her with him, still joined, so they lay in each other's arms, noses almost touching. Phryne kissed him gently on the lips and gazed at him lovingly. They lay like this for a short while catching their breath until Jack raised his hand and gently stroked her cheek, bringing her closer to kiss her in between breaths. He too had the shimmer of tears in his eyes. He began to speak; a slow and soft _Phryne_ was all he could manage.

They lay there for a while in a tight embrace, Phryne's head on his shoulder, her forehead pressed up against his cheek. He was twirling his fingers in her hair, the other hand stroking her body. She listened to his heartbeat gradually slow.

After a while, Phryne pulled back slightly to look up at him. "I think we have both wanted this for some time, why now, Jack?" she asked, gently stroking his face. Jack pondered the question, looking into her eyes before answering. Towards the end of their slow waltz they had yearned for each other; driven together by need and attraction. And here, alone at the homestead, they were able to relax and let down their guard, allowing their feelings to surface.

"Because it felt right, Phryne," he said, smiling lovingly at her. "Everything has felt right today." He drew her towards him and kissed her tenderly on the lips, "And it still does," he whispered, gently inserting his thigh between her legs.

Phryne nodded in agreement and closed her eyes, sighing contentedly and allowing her body to relax and lean against him. She was incredibly moved by their lovemaking and was still coming to terms with the depth of her feelings. She had expected him to be hesitant and self-conscious and she thought he would have to be cajoled into bed so was surprised by how confident a lover he was. Normally the instigator in these matters, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so thoroughly and deliciously seduced.

Jack was sliding his hand over her with firm, sensuous stokes. He sure did know how to touch, she thought. And unsurprisingly, he was a great kisser. She raised her face to him as a prompt. He didn't disappoint, his tongue seeking hers immediately, deepening the kiss. He suddenly stilled and stiffened slightly and she drew back to look at him. He looked uncomfortable.

"I, erm, forgot to ask you about, erm, family planning. I'm sorry Phryne, I was too caught up in the moment".

Phryne was relieved. "It's alright Jack, I had that sorted."

He looked surprised. "How?"

"I have a spare diaphragm that I keep in my toiletries bag. After our embrace by the door I decided that I couldn't wait for you to make a move and I was going to seduce you, no matter what, so I prepared myself while you were having a shower." Jack smiled and let out a sigh of relief, choosing to ignore the illegality of what they had just done. He kissed her again, his hand cupping her backside and pulling her closer.

* * *

><p>They stayed in bed for hours, exploring each other's bodies; feeling more comfortable with each other in this new arrangement. They snoozed in each other's arms and talked about all manner of things, expertly avoiding a discussion of this sudden change in their relationship, distracting each other with kisses and caresses. Both knew that discussion would come; it was inevitable, but neither wanted to ruin this delicious moment that they had both wanted for so long. Only hunger drove them out of bed, and once sated and prepared for bed again, they cuddled on the lounge together, toasting their new-found closeness with whiskey and kisses until they felt the pull of the bedroom, and desperate to feel each other's naked body pressed up against them, they returned to bed.<p>

* * *

><p>Jack woke early the next morning, as was his custom. Light was peeking in from behind the curtains and the birds were quiet, so he surmised it was well past dawn but still early. He was on his back with Phryne, still sleeping, curled up facing away from him, her backside pressed up against his hip. He rubbed his face with his hands, smelling her scent on his fingers, and memories of their night flooded back to him, his body responding immediately.<p>

He had never experienced anything like it. They had made love several times, all gloriously different in pace and position and he had learnt more about female anatomy and sexuality in the few hours with Phryne than he had in the last twenty odd years. They had fought sleep, not wanting to stop caressing and talking, but had finally succumbed to exhaustion, wrapped in each other's arms.

Jack laced his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He reflected on how she had changed him in the time he had known her. After the war, feeling utterly alone, he slid into deep introspection and he withdrew from the world. Despair and anger were the only emotions he seemed to be capable of and he clung onto them as all other feelings began to wither, including his sexual urges. This only added to the problems of his dying marriage, so he relinquished it altogether, opting instead for asexuality.

When he first met Phryne he had found her meddlesome and was irked by her confidence, but she stirred something in him: a long-forgotten feeling that he grappled to name. He eventually conceded that he found her attractive and he realised that she was the first person he had been drawn to after the break-up with Rosie.

As they got to know each other better, his feelings towards her grew, but he ignored them as best as he could; he was still married and she was way out of his league. His renewed sexual urges and the stabs of jealousy he felt when he learnt of her trysts were painful reminders that he was starting to feel again and, despite his reluctance, he realised he was falling for her. It was not until he stood pale and trembling before the sports car, fighting panic and nausea as he expected to find her dead at the wheel that he realised he was in love with her.

He blinked slowly, not wanting to relive the time when he walked out on her. He forced himself out of his painful reflection to return to the present and turned to her, wrapping his arm around her and snuggling in gently, careful not to wake her. As he lay there, his face buried in her hair and his body pressed lovingly into hers, he allowed himself to briefly feel joyous until doubt and insecurity again worked their way in and his happiness drained away slowly. Their lives had irrevocably changed in less than a day and the reality of the consequences of their coupling sunk in: this was either the start of something serious between them or the end of their relationship as they had known it.

He gently kissed her neck and realised that this was the first time since he had been here with her that he had felt insecure, and he chided himself for allowing himself to feel that way when he was pressed up against the woman that he loved; the woman that had made love to him last night in a way that made him think that she loved him too. Damn it, he thought, he didn't care if he woke her, he needed to kiss her and feel her pressed tightly against him. He pulled her gently onto her back and she took a deep breath and stretched, opening her eyes to look at him. She smiled and his heart skipped a beat.

"Morning, gorgeous" she said, her voice scratchy with sleep.

Jack smiled at her and leant in to press a gentle kiss to her mouth. "Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?"

Still smiling she turned to him, inserting her arm under his and pulling him closer, her leg sliding between his. "Mmm, no, thankfully."

Feeling more buoyant, he buried his face in her hair again and breathed in her scent. She wasn't properly awake and he felt her body twitch as sleep reclaimed her. He thought about getting up and making breakfast but was reluctant to part with her so he stayed there, his arms wrapped around her, listening to her breathe. He was unsure what lay ahead for the two of them, but he was lying naked, wrapped around the woman he loved most in the world after a night of incredible intimacy. He sighed, moments like this were to be cherished and everything else could wait. Feeling more relaxed, he slowly drifted back into sleep.

* * *

><p>It was mid-morning as they sat on the lounge on the verandah, empty breakfast plates piled on the low table. Phryne was sipping her tea and looking wistfully at the hill opposite. She was nestled into the corner of the lounge, her bare legs and feet in Jack's lap. His hands were gently caressing her toes, which she wiggled appreciatively.<p>

"I assume you have climbed that hill," she said to him, gesturing with her cup of tea. "I imagine you were a _Boy's Own Adventure_ fan."

Jack scoffed. "I think you will find it's a _mountain_, Phryne," he said feigning indignation, "and yes, I have climbed it many times. The first time I did it on my own I was eight."

"Eight?" Phryne asked incredulously. "That would have been quite an adventure. Were you allowed to do this or did you sneak off against your parents' wishes?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Phryne," he said giving her a smile.

"Well, as far as I know, you could have been a wayward and naughty child. You did mention that this place was your refuge from your troubled youth."

Jack smiled. Yes he did tell her that. He decided to distract her by sliding his hand up her dress to the top of her thighs. "Not as a child," he said softly, flicking his eyebrows up at her, "but I am feeling rather naughty and wayward now."

Phryne chuckled, closing her eyes at the touch of his hand. "I want to climb your mountain," she murmured.

Jack stopped caressing her and raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Phryne opened her eyes and sat up in earnest. "I need an adventure, Jack."

Of course she did; it was only a matter of time before she got fidgety and bored here. It was like she had a physical urge to do something daring, to feed her addiction. "It's a steep climb, Phryne," he teased. "Are you sure you are up to it?"

Phryne scoffed. "Jack, you know I can climb. This would be a piece of cake compared with a rusty and loose drainpipe. And besides," she said flashing him a grin, "I'll have an expert mountaineer as my guide."

Phryne didn't wait for Jack's response as she jumped up and declared that she was going to get ready and would pack some water and snacks, denying him a quip about waving to her at the top from the comfort of the verandah. Jack smiled, in truth he was delighted that she wanted to do this with him. It was a tough climb but the view from the top was well worth it. He finished his tea and got up to change.

They walked hand-in-hand as Jack led the way down a different path to the creek so that they could cross it without getting too wet. They stood on the bank at the other side and looked up. It was steeper than Phryne had thought, but this did not deter her. They worked their way up slowly, stopping every now and then to look at the view and have a drink. It was hard going, but Phryne found it exhilarating. They scrambled and slid and there were times when Jack climbed ahead and pulled her up vertical rocks, both trusting each other implicitly. After just over an hour they arrived at the top, dirty and sweaty and hot. Jack walked along the ridge to a large rocky outcrop and beckoned for Phryne to join him. "The view is best from here," he called, "you can see the homestead."

Phryne went to him and sat down, taking her shoes and socks off to cool her hot feet. She looked lovely: her trousers were rolled up, her ruined blouse clung to her sweaty body and she was flushed from the climb. She turned to him with a broad smile and then took in the view.

"Just beautiful. It was worth it just to see this!" Jack smiled at her and leant over to pull her into a kiss. Her lips were salty from the sweat that had trickled down from her brow. They stayed kissing for a while, both feeling good after exerting themselves. Jack slowly withdrew and looked lovingly at her, his hand still in her hair.

"You look beautiful, Phryne. Don't move." He dug in the bag for the camera that Phryne had insisted on bringing, to capture this special moment together. He walked behind her and found a position that captured her at an angle looking out across the valley to the homestead and hills in the background. She had her feet stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles and she leant to the left, supporting herself with her outstretched arm, her right hand relaxed in her lap. He focused the image and called out to her. She twisted her body slightly to look around at him. Her expression was soft and open and the breeze had just caught her hair, lifting it slightly and blowing some strands across her smile.

As Jack heard the click of the shutter, he knew he would forever cherish this photograph: two of his greatest loves in the one frame. What he didn't know was how much he would come to rely on that image over the next few months to get him through what were to become the darkest days since just after the war.

In the weeks to come, he would feel his life spiral out of control. As a broken man, he would return to deep contemplation in the dead of the night to relive his time here with Phryne, in the hope that his memories and that photograph would remind him of a time when he felt whole, and that love and happiness were possible again. Only then would he be able to heal and move on from the horrors that awaited them both.


	8. Chapter 8

_Some relative calm before the storm ..._

* * *

><p>Back at the homestead they lay on the lounge together. Phryne was lying with her head in Jack's lap and her feet over the arm of the lounge. She was relaxed from their climb and their 'swim' to cool off afterwards. She smiled as she thought of their time in the creek, naked and tightly entwined around each other as they succumbed yet again to their attraction. She was enjoying the feel of Jack's fingers in her hair when she heard his stomach rumble.<p>

"Hungry," she asked, opening her eyes to look up at him?

"Very."

"What do we have left? We are running out of Mr Butler's food."

"Not a lot, only some eggs and potatoes and some bread and cheese. We can have sandwiches now but I was thinking I might shoot some rabbits this evening and we can make a stew."

Phryne's eyes widened in surprise. "You hunt, Jack?" she asked.

"I wouldn't say I hunted Phryne, I don't enjoy shooting but I have shot rabbits and the odd wallaby for food. We have been in the midst of a rabbit plague here for a while now. My family has shot rabbits here for as long as I can remember."

"We'll I hope your skills extend to skinning and gutting too, Jack. I'll chop the vegetables."

* * *

><p>It was late afternoon by the time that Jack returned from another ride into town with good news of her loved ones and some supplies for their dinner and the next couple of days. Phryne sat out on the verandah with a whiskey and a copy of <em>Main Street<em> that she had found in the bookcase. She found herself at the bottom of the page with no idea of what she had just read; she was distracted: Jack was bustling around inside, walking briskly from room-to-room. She turned her body to look through the doors and spied him with a cushion tucked under each arm. What on earth was he up to? She put down the book. It was no use: as good as it was, the light was too dim so she spent the time gazing at the scenery and listening to the incredible birdsong that she missed out on in the morning. Jack appeared at the door, startling her out of her reverie. "Jack!" Phryne exclaimed, "What are you doing in there?"

Jack smiled and raised his eyebrows at her. "You'll have to wait and see Phryne. I've organised some evening entertainment for us."

Phryne beamed at him. He could do no wrong at the moment. "Really? Evening entertainment that involves cushions? How intriguing! What exactly are you planning on doing to entertain me tonight?" she asked reaching up to pull him down for a kiss. "Tell me Jack, you know I don't like surprises."

"I don't plan on doing anything to entertain you," he said in between kisses. "And no, I'm not going to tell you. You'll have to be patient."

Phryne huffed in frustration as Jack pulled away from her. "It's getting on, Phryne, I best be going if I am to shoot our dinner." He turned to walk away but stopped and turned to her. With mock seriousness and a stern voice he raised his finger at her. "And try to resist the urge to detect, Miss Fisher. Don't spoil my surprise."

He walked to the edge of the verandah and bent under the railing, jumping athletically to the ground. "Where are you going?" she asked, confused.

"To get the shotgun," he answered, disappearing under the verandah to the space under the house.

As Jack emerged from under the verandah with the gun over his shoulder, Phryne got up and walked to the kitchen to prepare the vegetables. She was peeling potatoes when she heard the unmistakable sound of gunshot in the distance. Two quick shots reverberated around the valley.

After a short while, she looked out the kitchen window to see Jack returning with the gun in one hand, two rabbits in the other. She looked at his body: the top buttons of his shirt were undone and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms; his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and his trousers strained against his well-muscled thighs. She watched him walk towards her, aware of how readily her body had responded to the sight of him. Not even the dead rabbits, which he held by their feet, their limp bodies moving to and fro with the movement of his walk, could dampen the desire that she felt as she watched him.

She gave herself a mental shake and focused again on peeling the potatoes. Jack walked in the door and she turned to him with a smile. "Successful hunt, I see. I'll get the potatoes finished and the carrots and onions chopped and get out of your way." Jack put the gun and the rabbits on some newspaper that was spread out on the table and walked up behind her, lightly gripping her arms and briefly pressing himself up against her as he kissed the back of her neck, causing her to shiver at his touch. He moved away to check on the wood stove that he had lit earlier, and when Phryne was finished he shooed her out of the kitchen with instructions to pour him a whiskey while he prepared dinner.

* * *

><p>Phryne swallowed her last mouthful of rabbit and laid her knife and fork on her plate. "Well Jack, I must say, that was superb. I'm not normally a fan of leftovers but I will happily eat that again."<p>

Jack smiled. "Glad to hear it, Phryne, since we have enough left for several meals." He was clearly chuffed that he had cooked such a delicious dish and he wordlessly gave thanks to Nikos, the greengrocer in town, for providing ingredients and a quick lesson on how best to cook rabbit.

They both cleared the table and Phryne was preparing to wash up when Jack grabbed her hand. "The wash-up will have to wait, Phryne, we have a short window to properly enjoy the surprise." Phryne grinned; she was feeling a little light-headed from the few whiskeys she had already drunk and willingly obeyed when he told her to close her eyes and not open them until he told her to. She heard him switch off the lights in the house and then gasped as she felt Jack pick her up and carry her out the front door. "No peeking!" he reminded her.

He crunched over the gravel and walked a short way and then she felt him drop to his knees and he gently laid her on a blanket. She slowly put her head back on to the cushion and felt him lie down beside her.

"You can open your eyes now," he said quietly beside her.

Phryne opened her eyes and drew in a breath at the night sky. There was no moon yet, and no light from the house to drown out the display. The sky seemed so heavy with stars that she felt like she would be able to reach out and touch it; there were clouds of them with little space in between. "Oh Jack! It is beautiful!" she said softly. "What a romantic thing to do! I must say, I didn't think you would be the romantic type."

"Neither did I Phryne, until I found someone that I wanted to be romantic with," he said smiling and turning to look at her. "You can't come up here without seeing the night sky. It really is a spectacle and this is the best way to do it." Phryne smiled back at him and reached out to thread her fingers through his. They looked back to the stars, holding hands. Jack named the major constellations as they looked for shooting stars and he told her a bit about how other cultures interpreted the night sky.

"Where did you learn all this?" Phryne asked him.

"My father used to bring us out here when we were young to lie on a blanket so we could comfortably look up. He would name all the constellations for us. I realised much later that he made some of them up." Jack let out a small laugh at the memory of this, his demeanour growing more serious. "I was fascinated by it and have stared at the heavens at night ever since. When I was young I used to stare at the stars for hours, wondering what was up there, whether it went on forever, whether there were other inhabited worlds. The universe is so vast and so full of stars that it made me feel insignificant, which helped me cope after the war."

Phryne turned to look at him. "I don't understand, Jack. Surely feeling insignificant is not a good thing when you are suffering."

"As strange as it sounds Phryne, it helped me deal with what was happening in my life at the time. I was a mess after the war and was under a lot of pressure to buck up and be a man again. I was told to stop the self-indulgent suffering and reflection and get over it." Jack paused, it was hard to go back to that time but it felt good to talk to Phryne about something that had such an impact on his life. Phryne sensed his discomfort and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "The war changed me, and it seemed like I was the only one who recognised this, so I was unable to do that, but this …" he said, stretching his arm out and sweeping it in an arc in front of him, indicating the vast universe before him, "…this allowed me to put things into perspective and I felt I had nothing to prove. It helped me realise that it didn't really matter in the scheme of things if I failed to become the man that others wanted me to be; the world would not stop revolving and life would go on."

Phryne managed to drag her eyes away from the incredible night sky to look over at Jack. She turned to him and shifted his arm so she could lie with her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest, where she could feel the beat of his heart. Jack ran his fingers through Phryne's hair. She sighed softly and closed her eyes, giving in again to the feel of him touching her.

"What made you better?" She asked softly, not wanting him to stop talking.

"I was sick to death of people telling me what I needed to do, who I needed to become to get over the trauma of the war. I shut everyone out and became a recluse for a while. This allowed _me_ to really think about who I wanted to be and I gradually decided that I didn't want to be angry and sad. I also didn't want to be married. Not to Rosie, anyway; I knew that was over. As I felt stronger, I started working again and threw myself into my work. I felt useful again." Jack huffed out a small laugh, "I thought it was ironic that dealing with murder and death again helped me deal with the horrors that I experienced at war."

Phryne put her arm around him and held him tightly. "Oh Jack …" She had wanted him to talk so she could get to know him better but was pained at the thought of him suffering and feeling utterly alone. He had revealed his innermost thoughts to her and she wondered if it was their new-found closeness or the many whiskies they'd shared that was loosening his tongue and allowing him to talk about those terrible times. She suspected it was both. She felt so close to him at the moment and wanted to tell him she loved him, but felt it was too soon and she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Jack turned to kiss the top of Phryne's head, not wanting to dwell on the past when he was the happiest he had been for years. "Let's go inside, the moon's coming up and I could do with a more comfortable setting."

They both stood and gathered the cushions and blanket and walked back to the house, plonking themselves down on the couches in the lounge room. "How about another whiskey and some music?" Phryne asked, rising to pour him another drink. She was feeling quite tipsy, but the night was still young and she was eager to explore the extensive record collection.

They sat in the lounge room drinking whiskey and talking, mostly about their childhood. They laughed at each other's stories, becoming louder and more affectionate with each other as they consumed more alcohol. After a while, Phryne decided she wanted to dance. She was sitting on Jack's lap and he tightened his grip as she moved to get off him. "Hmmm, don't go," he said, kissing her neck. Phryne playfully pried his hands away giving him a wet kiss before walking unsteadily to the gramophone, realising she was drunker than she thought. She looked through the record collection. There were so many she had never heard of and was having trouble choosing one.

"This is an extensive collection. Who's the music fan?"

"My brother-in law is a music promoter. He brings bands to Australia and imports the latest records from around the world."

"How exciting!" Phryne exclaimed. "He sounds like a good person to know. Do you get to see these bands when they come out?" She turned to rifle through the records.

"They're not really my thing. Try the one on the end."

She pulled out the record on the end of the pile. "Love me or leave me?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds ominous."

Jack chuckled. "My sister likes it," he lied.

She put it on, expertly putting the needle in place at the start of the song, despite feeling considerably wobbly. She remained kneeling by the gramophone until she was sure she liked the music. Sweet violin started the song and then the pace slowed. Phryne turned up the volume and a sultry voice filled the room.

_This suspense is killin' me_

_ I can't stand uncertainty_

_ Tell me now I've got to know_

_ Whether you want me to stay or to go ..._

Oh, yes, this will do. She stood up and swayed to the music, listening to the lyrics.

_Love me or leave me or let me be lonely_

_ You won't believe me but I love you only_

_ I'd rather be lonely than happy with someone else ..._

She looked over at Jack, who was watching her with an expression that she couldn't quite read.

_You might find the night time the right time for kissin'_

_ But night time is my time for just reminiscin'_

_ Regrettin' instead of forgettin' with somebody else ..._

Jack watched Phryne smirking at him as she swayed to the rhythm of the music. He knew she had figured out it was him that had played this song repeatedly as he struggled with his feelings for her.

_There'll be no one unless that someone is you_

_ I intend to be independently blue ..._

She had closed her eyes to focus on the lyrics, opening them every now and then to make sure she wasn't going to stumble drunkenly into furniture. Jack smiled and marvelled at how completely uninhibited she was; she was like no-one he had ever known. He was drunk, more drunk than he had been for a while in the company of another person but was enjoying the feel of it. He felt lighter from having shared some of his past with Phryne and his muscles seemed more relaxed. He felt that he had melted into his favourite spot on his favourite lounge at his favourite place, watching Phryne sway and move her body in time to the music, as if she were his own private entertainment.

He continued to watch her and looked longingly at her body. Christ! He was sure that she had ruined all other women for him. He had spent the day in a state of constant arousal; their sex yesterday and throughout today was both tender and exhilarating and he felt like the luckiest man alive. He couldn't get enough of her and he wanted her now.

_I want your love but I don't want to borrow_

_ To have it today to give back tomorrow_

_ For your love is my love_

_ There's no love for nobody else ..._

"Phryne," he said thickly, trying not to sound too drunk. Phryne opened her eyes and looked at him with a smile that sent a surge of heat through his body. He extended an arm to her and beckoned with his fingers. "Come here," he whispered.

Phryne raised an eyebrow at his command but continued to smile. "No," she said softly. "You come here."

Jack chuckled. Of course she'd say that. He had suspected she would try and coax him into a dance. "And why would I do that?" he asked, happily entering into their familiar battle of wits and will.

"And why would I come there?" she countered, trying to give him her most suggestive look.

"So I can hold you."

She sashayed closer, bending towards him and jutting her chin out. "Hold me? Is that all you want to do to me?"

Jack paused. "No, I want to do more to you than just hold you."

Phryne looked at him, nestled into the corner of the lounge, watching her lustfully. "If you want me to come to you then you need to tell me," she whispered slowly, moving slightly closer to him but just out of his reach, "what you plan on doing to me". She continued to move to the music, watching a smirk appear on his face.

Jack looked at her swaying seductively just in front of him. God he wanted her. He was tempted to reach out and grab her and pull her to him but doubted he could move that fast in his current state of inebriation. He debated whether or not to play her game. Why not? He always enjoyed this about their relationship: their constant attempts to gain the upper hand. Now all he had to do was shock her into submission. Luckily the grog, his arousal and their growing familiarity with each other's bodies had loosened his prurient tongue.

Jack stared at her and spoke softly and slowly. "I want you to straddle me so I can feel you against me. I want to kiss every part of you and caress you with my fingers. And then I will lie you down and make love to you, here, on the lounge."

Phryne's eyes widened and her nostrils flared as she felt a wave of arousal. Damn, he was good; she had expected him to be flustered by her demand. She tried to look composed and held his gaze. "And what if I don't want that?"

"Oh, you'll want it," Jack said quietly, looking at her intensely. "You want it now."

Phryne stilled, her breathing had quickened and she fought the urge to go to him, to have his hands on her, to feel him in her. She looked at him sitting there legs slightly apart; the top buttons of his shirt still undone, one arm on the back of the lounge, the other resting across his thigh. Phryne had always been attracted to him physically; even more so now: she had struggled to keep her hands off him all day, but it was so much more than that. He was clever and witty, kind and affectionate and she (mostly) loved that he was as headstrong and stubborn as she was. She had always been attracted to confident people and was drawn to him as he scowled at her in the bathroom at their first crime scene. He had emanated self-assuredness, piquing her interest immediately; there was no mistaking that he occupied a position of power. His obvious intelligence gave him an arrogant air, and that and his voice sent thrills through her body. Now, in her drunken state she wondered if she could ever tire of this beautiful man.

She started to sway again in time to the music. "If you want me, you will have to come to me," she said, stepping away from him, knowing that this was a game she would always win.

He didn't respond to her but continued to watch this beautiful, stubborn, and defiant woman with a small smile on his face. He knew he would go to her, he always would; that is what you do when you are madly and deeply in love with someone, but he was going to make her wait. She upped the sexuality, watching him with an intensity that caused him to skip a breath. She turned her back to him and slowly swayed her backside, running her hands up and down her body.

Jack grunted with desire and quietly got off the lounge. So much for making her wait, who was he kidding? She had a hold on him now and he couldn't resist her. Her tease had dissolved what little resolve he had and he slowly walked to her, putting his hands on her bare shoulders to gently pull her back so he could press up against her body. He ran his hands gently down her arms and she leant her head back to rest on his shoulder and pushed against him gently, rubbing him with her backside, humming at the feel of his hands roaming all over her body. They stayed together like this, breathing heavily, for a short while until she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Dance with me."

Jack sighed with frustration, not because he didn't want to dance with her, he would quite happily spend eternity pressed up against her, but he was drunk and very aroused and he wanted her with an urgency he was fighting to control. He pulled her to him tightly, wrapping his arms around her possessively so she was forced to move with him at his pace; this was one dance between them that he was going to lead. His face was close to hers, but he teased her by not letting her kiss him. He started to sway, moving his hips in time to the music. Phryne's eyes widened and she gasped softly.

"If I had known about your dancing prowess, Inspector," she slurred with mock formality, "I would have insisted that you dance with me earlier."

Jack huffed out a small laugh. There was that word again. "Insisted?" he said in a low voice, moving closer to brush the tip of her nose with his. "Is that what you think of me? That I will always do as you say?" Jack leant in to whisper in her ear, pulling her even closer against him. "I'm not that easy, Miss Fisher. You'll have to try harder than that." He sucked on her lobe and moved his hand from her lower back to gently stroke her backside and the top of her thighs. "What's in it for me?"

Phryne felt goose bumps spread over her body and she shivered against him. Jack smiled; now he had her.

"Me. All of me," she whispered, desperate for him now.

Despite the music finishing, he danced them away from the furniture and wanting to show off, he dipped her, his alcohol-fogged brain mistiming the dip and he stumbled and they fell to the wooden floor. Jack just managed to get a hand out to soften their landing before he tumbled on top of her. They looked at each other in surprise and burst out laughing, grinning from ear-to-ear. They snorted and then giggled, their laughter eventually subsiding to a soft chuckle and they gazed at each other almost nose-to-nose, Jack lying gently on top of her. The song had finished and the soft _click click_ of the needle in the groove at the end of the record caused memories of their dance to come back to them.

Phryne pulled Jack to her and roughly kissed him, writhing under him. Jack responded with the same sense of urgency and they tore at each other's clothes to feel skin. They didn't bother to undress; there was no time for that, no time for caressing and no time for intimacy. It was as if all layers of decency and decorum had been stripped away and they grappled with each other, desperate to get what they wanted. Phryne's dress was pushed up, her knickers roughly removed. Jack's trousers were undone and pushed down to bunch at his ankles. He quickly entered her, causing her to cry out and push up against him. They didn't kiss; there were no loving strokes, just drunken and uncontrolled lust and they rutted like animals. Phryne grabbed his hips. "Harder!" she breathed, pulling him so he pushed deeper inside her, inching her across the floor with every thrust. Despite the amount of alcohol they had consumed, they both orgasmed quickly, crying out loudly and then panting as they recovered from their exertion.

Jack withdrew from her and collapsed to lie down next to her, pulling her towards him. They looked at each other and snickered like naughty children. They were comfortable enough with each other that neither of them was too embarrassed about what had just happened. They kissed, slowly and lovingly, returning to the pace of their earlier lovemaking. Phryne broke the kiss and looked up at him. "Jack, how shockingly, wonderfully ungentlemanly of you!"

Jack huffed out a laugh. "The gentleman in me left about four whiskies ago, Phryne," he replied, kissing her gently on the lips. The room was starting to spin and they were feeling the hardness of the floor. They were both suddenly very tired.

"Let's go to bed," Phryne whispered, in between kisses. Jack smiled, and reached up to lovingly tuck her hair behind her ear. Despite his drunkenness, he registered the significance of those four little words: they would retreat to the room that they now shared as lovers. They were too invested in each other to consider this a holiday fling. He stood slowly, fighting the gravitational pull of the floor, and pulled up his trousers.

"Yes," he said, helping her up to embrace her and nuzzle lovingly into her neck. "Let's go to bed."

* * *

><p><em>Love Me or Leave Me: music was written by Walter Donaldson and the lyrics by Gus Khan. I grew up on the Nina Simone version and always loved it. The version in this story was sung by Ruth Etting. Check it out, it is fabulous ...<br>_


	9. Chapter 9

_Here we go, people ..._

* * *

><p>Phryne was dancing again. She was pressed up close to him, his breath ruffling her hair as they danced cheek to cheek. Her body buzzed with anticipation. She felt him slowly move away from her and she lifted her face in hope of a kiss as she felt his hands move up her body. "I want you ...," he whispered, "... forever. I need you. We are so good together." Phryne looked up at him and nodded immediately. He was right: they were meant to be together, he had changed her but this is who she really was. How could she have not seen it? The last few weeks had been thrilling, and now she was ready to give herself, all of herself, to him. A smile spread over Roberts' face and he leant in to kiss her ...<p>

Phryne was jolted awake by the screech of cockatoos in the tree just outside her window. She was momentarily disoriented; the pounding in her head and her dream had thrown her and she looked around dazed for a few seconds. She turned her head sharply towards the soft exhalations beside her, instantly regretting the abrupt movement of her head and resultant stab of pain.

Jack.

She felt dreadful. Her mouth was sour and dry and she felt dizzy and nauseous. She shut her gritty eyes in the hope of returning to sleep but her mind took her back to the dream. It was so real, so dreadfully real. She snapped her eyes open again. She tried to shake off the lingering dread she was feeling: she had outsmarted dangerous men and now they were seeking revenge. She had been so distracted by her new relationship with Jack that once she knew that Jane and her staff were safe, she had put the reason they were here together conveniently out of her mind.

She kept her head still but moved her eyes to look at the glow at the edge of the curtains. It was light outside at least, so it couldn't be too early. The pounding in her head subsided slightly and she heard the sound of light rain and groaned as she realised that she would have to get up and walk through it to deal with her urgent call of nature. She turned her head, slowly this time, towards Jack. Memories of their night worked their way through the pain in her head and she managed a small smile. Yesterday was wonderful; she couldn't remember such a perfect day: climbing, a dip in the creek, Jack's excellent stew and lying wrapped in his arms under the stars. And of course there was the sex throughout the day, culminating in their dance and the stumble that had toppled them onto the floor. She felt a twinge in her belly at the memory of their frenzied sex and she closed her eyes briefly to savour it. Their lovemaking had been a revelation; it was better than she could have imagined and if she wasn't feeling so fragile, she would be pressed up against him by now.

She sighed, her bladder could take it no longer and she put on her slippers and robe, gently getting out of bed so she wouldn't wake Jack. She groaned when the pain thumped in her head as she stood. She gingerly moved to the dresser and rummaged in her toiletry bag for her tin of aspirin, avoiding her dishevelled reflection. She left two on the bedside for Jack and took hers to the kitchen and downed them with a large glass of water. She opened the door and cursed as she looked at the outhouse at the end of the path; country life had suddenly lost some appeal.

Back in their room, she placed a glass of water on the bedside table next to Jack, taking a moment to look at him; even in slumber he looked hungover. His features were puffy and his mouth was open; his lips were distorted into a sneer by the pillow. She shivered. She was damp from the rain so she shed her robe and gently slipped into bed. She turned to look at him; the covers were pulled up to his waist, exposing his naked torso. She curled up close to feel his warmth; not touching him, knowing her cold body would jolt him awake. She looked at his back, fighting the urge to run her hand down his smooth skin. She wanted to fill her mind with his body to drive the disturbing images of Roberts out of her head. She knew it was only a dream, but it and the whiskey had left a bad taste in her mouth. Her eyes followed the line of his spine to the covers and she reached out to lift it, taking a peek at his bottom before she gently brought it up over their shoulders.

The cockatoos continued their screeching, this time waking Jack, who groaned and moved onto his back. His eyes were still closed but she knew he was awake. He took a moment to wait for the dizziness to subside before turning his head and opening one eye to look at her. She was lying on her side, watching him. She smiled, knowing he would be coming to terms with how terrible he felt. She reached out and ran her hand over his chest.

Jack rubbed his face and looked at her. He managed a small smile. "Ergh."

Phryne smiled. She reached across him to pass him the water and aspirins. "Here, take these."

"Yes, nurse." Jack slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position and swallowed the pills. He grimaced at their bitter taste. He looked over at Phryne smiling at him. "What are you smiling about?" he said playfully, his voice more gravelly than usual. "This is all your fault, plying me with whiskey so you could take advantage of me, again."

Phryne huffed out a laugh and again regretted it, her head pounding with the exertion. "I think you'll find it was you who took advantage of me last night, Jack, throwing me to the floor and pinning me down so you could have your way with me."

Jack managed a smile. "You loved every minute of it," he said, reaching down to stroke the top of her nose.

Phryne managed a grin. "I don't think it even lasted a minute, Jack."

Jack snorted then groaned, raising his hand to his throbbing temple. "Don't make me laugh, Phryne." He lay down again and pulled up the covers, turning to her and pulling her closer. "Come here, nurse Fisher," he said, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her forehead. "I need you to make me feel better, I feel truly awful. You?"

"Dreadful."

They both laughed softly as they settled in each other's arms. "It's raining," Jack murmured, "perfect cuddling weather. I think we should stay here all day." Phryne nodded slowly and pressed a kiss to his chest. The smell and the feel of him helped fade the memory of her dream, and wrapped in his arms, she allowed herself to close her eyes again. Sleep, she thought, that's what they needed and then everything would be alright again.

* * *

><p>The rest of the morning was spent in a daze. They eventually got out of bed and prepared a hot breakfast and coffee. They lazed around on the verandah, both with a book, listening to the rain. Wherever they sat, they stayed close; Phryne with some part of her draped possessively over him: her legs in his lap, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his thigh. Every now and then, Jack would lean in to press a kiss to whichever part of her was within reach and they would look at each other and smile in solidarity, knowing that they shared the same pain. They didn't talk much; neither had the energy or lucidity for their usual witty repartee, but they were inseparable, even bathing together, not wanting to spend a moment apart.<p>

They managed some lunch but the exertion exhausted them and they returned to the lounge on the verandah. Curled up together, without the energy to engage in any other activity, Phryne was unable to ignore her thoughts. She looked over at Jack and reflected on their wonderful time here together. They had only shared two nights as lovers but had fallen into a level of comfort with each other usually reserved for long-time sweethearts, or, if she dared think it, married couples. Neither had properly thought through what would happen when they left here, to return to the city and to their lives, and neither had wanted to. She knew that there were some aspects of her lifestyle that she would be expected to change, and that alone should have sent her packing, but she was comfortable with the idea of loving him and him only. They were in love with each other, she was sure of it now, and that simple fact had changed everything.

They both knew they would return home as changed people. They had found it so easy being here loving each other, but going home would be hard for them. They would no doubt return home to gossip and innuendo and they would have their morals called into question. Phryne inwardly scoffed at this: let them, see if I care! She had nothing to lose: there were many who thought she had no morals to begin with, but she suspected that this would be difficult for Jack: it could affect his standing as a high ranking police officer, which could have flow-on effects for his cases. She closed her eyes and groaned inwardly; it could even jeopardise the case against Fletcher and Sanderson, another conveniently forgotten problem. And of course there was Roberts' trial. Yes, she thought wryly, going home was going to be tough for them both, but at least they could tackle these problems together.

* * *

><p>The rain had eased up and the sun came out in the late afternoon. After an early dinner of left-over stew, they were feeling more like themselves and had ventured outside. Sensibly dressed in trousers and boots, they walked slowly hand-in-hand along the ridge top, not far from the homestead. Phryne was enjoying the fresh air and the beauty of the bush after rain: previously unnoticed spiderwebs glistened with raindrops and the leaves of the canopy sparkled as they moved in the breeze, catching the rays of the setting sun. Phryne was feeling immeasurably better and was thankful to be up and about.<p>

"How's your mistletoe poem coming along, Jack," she teased.

"Coming along nicely in my head, thank you."

"When do I get to see it?"

"See it? That wasn't part of the agreement, I thought I just had to write it," he teased, moving his hand to her waist to pull her in closer. He planted a kiss on the side of her head as she snaked her arm around his waist and looked up at him. She loved it when Jack teased her.

"Someone will have to judge whether it is more romantic than Shakespeare's description, and given that I gave you the challenge, I think that should be me, don't you think?"

"That depends," he said, suddenly steering Phryne off the track to stand under a gum tree, "on whether I can restore the romance of mistletoe for you." She looked up and smiled. The unmistakable mess of a mistletoe was directly above them. "I need to rectify that first, don't you think," he continued, "otherwise no poem I write about mistletoe could ever be considered romantic by you, which would render you unsuitable as a judge and be a disadvantage to me in this challenge of yours," Jack said, pulling her closer.

Phryne grinned up at him. "Point taken, Jack; you better give it your best shot then," she said, playfully puckering her lips.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hand splayed between her shoulders. They swayed together for a while, gazing into each other's eyes, ignoring the protests of the birds wanting to roost above them. The doubts she had earlier about their troubles at home melted away and she felt the urge to tell him how she felt about him and to reassure him that what they had between them was special and would survive any problems that their life back home would throw at them. She was distracted by Jack's fingers gently caressing back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair. He drew her to him and gently kissed her, losing himself in the feel of her mouth on his, their tongues melding sensuously together.

They kissed for a while, both of them oblivious to the car that had turned off its engine and was slowly rolling down the drive to the homestead. The relative quiet suddenly erupted into shrill bird calls, not the usual cacophony at dusk but a warning of imminent danger. Jack suddenly stopped kissing Phryne and looked towards the homestead. A large flock of cockatoos had taken to the sky above the drive and were clearly rattled by something. "Phryne get down," he said urgently, he pulling her roughly behind the tree and low to the ground.

Phryne's eyes widened "What is it Jack?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"It's the birds, they have been spooked by something on the drive. Get behind that rock there, I'll go and investigate." Jack saw Phryne's worried face. "Don't worry, it's probably just a dog," he reassured her. He gave Phryne a quick kiss on the lips and snuck out to see what had spooked the birds. He crept forward, thankful for the low light and dark clothes. In truth, he was worried; he knew that cockatoos weren't rattled by much but had developed a distrust of people after being shot at by farmers for years and it would take something big to get all those birds into the air just as they were settling down to roost. He stayed behind the tree and looked through the scrub to the drive. The last of the sun's rays caught something shiny about half way down the drive and Jack felt the blood drain from his face. It was a car.

They had found her.

Jack dropped to the ground and ran his hands through his hair. Shit! They were stranded away from the house and their weapons and had no quick way of getting to the house without being seen. He turned to scamper back to Phryne and hatch a plan.

He crouched down and ran from tree to rock, hoping they would be focused on the house and not see him. He got back to the rock when he left her and quickly moved behind it. She was gone. Jack felt panic rise as he frantically looked around to see where she had gone. "Phryne!" he whispered. Nothing. He listened and heard the feint crackling sounds of something large crashing through the bush. For the first time in a long time he didn't know what to do and fought panic. They were incredibly vulnerable separated from the house without weapons and he didn't know where Phryne was. Damn her! Why couldn't she just do what she was told for once? Jack sank to the ground and put his head in his hands, fighting back tears. He needed a plan but his slow brain couldn't move on from her desertion of him. He felt betrayed; this is what he did best and she clearly didn't trust him and had decided to take matters into her own hands. This was a major sore point between them, but he took a deep breath, acknowledging the need to push that aside and deal with it later. Now he needed to think, he needed to know who was in that car and how many there were of them. There was a real danger they would not make it out of here alive, or worse, he would make it out alive without her.

* * *

><p>Phryne watched Jack sneak towards the drive for a better view. He had tried to stop her worrying by telling her it could be a dog but she knew him better than that. She knew Jack suspected something sinister and she trusted his instinct. She also trusted her own instincts implicitly, and she recognised the edge in his voice. She was starting to feel the unfamiliar crush of panic: they were utterly exposed. Phryne's instincts were screaming at her to run to the house to get weapons. She faltered; she had to make a decision: stay and wait to hear that they were surrounded or go to the house and fight for their lives. She knew that time was of the essence: the sooner she got to the house, the better chance they had of surviving this. She knew Jack would be furious with her, but she felt that they didn't have time. She was sure she was making the right decision and she stood, took one last look towards Jack and ran into the bush.<p>

Phryne hatched a plan as she ran. The best way to the house would be to follow the creek line: the small creek below her ran into the larger one with the pool, and then she would find her way up the path and head up to the homestead through the long grass. Yes, that would work. She scurried off down the gully to make her way to the small creek below. Her gun was in her bag at the house, but she couldn't risk getting it so her only hope was the shotgun that they kept in the room under the house. The light was starting to fade, so she needed to move quickly.

She ran, stumbling over rocks and pushing through shrubbery, arms out in front of her to shield her face from the spiky branches that whipped at her face. The mossy rocks were slippery from the rain and she stumbled and fell forward, putting both hands out to break the fall. She skidded along the rocky ground, tearing the skin on the palms of her hands. She knew she was hurt and would be bleeding but the adrenalin had kicked in and she felt nothing but fear. All her cells in her body screamed at her to run, get to the house to get a weapon, without one they would die, she was sure of that. She got to her feet and kept going, cursing the scrub that became denser as she neared the creek. She felt that the bush that she had fallen in love with had turned against her; prickles and twigs now reached out to grab her, as if they were mocking her feeble attempts to push through them. She put her injured hands out in front of her again and pushed though. Phryne choked back a sob; she was sickened with the idea that those thugs had sullied this beautiful place that was so special to Jack.

Jack.

She knew he would be furious that she had decided to act alone, once again defying his wishes but he didn't understand. She wasn't doing this to hurt him, she didn't question his judgement, it wasn't pigheadedness, it was her experience with feeling powerless that compelled her to act. She was spurred on by her painful memories of helplessness: as a child witnessing her drunken father beat her mother or sister, having Janey taken from her forever, watching bloodied men die in her arms, being under Rene's sadistic control. She felt powerless until she realised she didn't have to feel that way and she took control of her life again, and had promised herself ever since that she would always do something if she could. No, Phryne Fisher was not going to go down without a fight and she forged on ahead; she had to save Jack.

* * *

><p>Jack stood where he had left Phryne and considered his options. He was still panicky but had stopped frantically looking around, whispering her name in the hope that she had sought a more secure shelter a short distance away. He ran his hands through his hair, willing his hung-over brain to start working. Think!<p>

Phryne had gone back to the homestead to get weapons, he was sure of that. She had stupidly and single-mindedly decided to tackle this head on by herself. He had to concede that without weapons, he was sure they would both die, but they could have done it together. Damn her! He knew how long it would take her to reach the house by moving along the gully. He hoped it would be dark enough for her to sneak up through the long, late summer grass, and was thankful that she also wore dark colours. He decided the only thing to do was act as a decoy and emerge from the bush alone in the hope that they would not shoot him on site and believe him when he told them that she was somewhere safe, far from here. This was the only reason that they would keep him alive. He peered towards the drive. The birds were still protesting so he knew they were still there. Didn't they realise the alarm calls of the birds would give them away? At least they were stupid, he thought. He sat on a rock to track Phryne's journey down the gully in his mind. If this was indeed what she had done, she should be near the wooden fence at the bottom of the paddock by now; the perfect time for him to walk out in the open towards them.

He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. He felt naked: no coat, no gun, no armour. He took a deep breath and walked out of the trees.

* * *

><p>Phryne had reached the track that had led her and Jack to the pool. She sighed with relief and ran, knowing her journey would be easier from now on. Her hands and face were stinging and her clothes were torn from the run through the scrub, but she barely noticed. She was single-minded in her plan to get a weapon. She came to the wooden fence just as she heard shouting from the other side of the house. She froze. She couldn't make out the words but the tone was threatening. Her heart pounded her chest. It was now or never.<p>

She climbed over the gate and crawled on her hands and feet like a dog, wincing at the pain in her hands. Phryne moved quickly up through the grass and reached the back of the homestead. She stopped under the verandah and listened, careful to check for sounds of someone hiding close by. Satisfied that they were still out the front, she felt her way in the dark to the gun cabinet in the back.

Please don't let this be locked, she begged silently. It was just like Jack to do the right thing and secure the shotgun after use. She put her hand on the knob and turned. She sighed in relief as the door opened. She gasped.

The cupboard was empty.


	10. Chapter 10

_Warning: this chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence and implied sexual violence.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Phryne<p>

Phryne felt a wave of panic. She was so sure it would be here and she would be able to save Jack. She was panting with fear and exertion and sat on a box to compose herself and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. There were more murmurs. Her eyes widened as she recognised Jack's voice. She tried to focus on the words but couldn't make out what he said. She hoped, no, she knew that Jack would realise that she had run back to the homestead for a weapon. She had suspected that he would confront them head on to give her a bit more time to locate the shotgun. She huffed out a wry laugh; despite her running off without him, they still managed to work as a team. Jack. She welled up with tears. She couldn't let him down, she had to act quickly; they would no doubt search the house and discover her belongings, then after that there was no reason to keep him alive. She knew what these men were capable of: they wouldn't hesitate to kill.

She needed a gun and if not a gun then something she could use as a weapon. She thought about getting into the house but the verandah was too high for her to get onto easily, and she suspected that they would soon search the house. She wiped away her tears and frantically looked around to see if she could find anything suitable. She couldn't believe her eyes, propped up against the wall just inside the door was the shotgun, no doubt quickly discarded by Jack the night before as he juggled the cooking and preparing the table for dinner. She remembered him taking it away; he was rushed and already feeling the effects of the whiskey.

Phryne heard voices as she ran to the gun and snatched it from the wall. It was double-barrelled and she assumed it was empty: two shots, two rabbits, but she checked anyway. Nothing. She ran back to the cupboard, tripping over something and falling on her knees and sore hands. The gun clattered along the ground and she ignored the pain in her hands as she felt for it along the floor. The light under the house was now too dim for her to see it but she located it quickly and stood to feel along the shelves. She wasn't feeling so panicked anymore; she was focused and driven, determined to get out alive and save Jack. Phryne heard more talking and then raised voices. "Shoot him!" She stood up suddenly and gasped, unable to move. It felt like eternity waiting and listening. Gunshot and shattering glass filled the valley. She let out a sob. NO! NO! Please, no!

She wanted to run to him, to make sure he was still alive, but she knew this would be stupid. She let out a wail, terrified that she had lost him. Please, let him be alive, she silently begged. Now was a time to pray, if ever there was one but she had nothing and no-one to pray to. She only had herself and she had to keep going, she had to get to Jack. She frantically swept her sore hands along the shelf, willing them to find something and grimacing with pain as her hands ran over dust and grit. The shelf was empty. No! This could not be happening! If she couldn't find ammunition, she would have to get into the house to get her gun. It was risky, but their chance of getting out alive was so dire that any risk was worth taking. She heard laughter and felt a wave of panic that caused her to sway in the darkness and she gripped the shelf in the cupboard to steady herself. She gritted her teeth and turned her pain, fear and grief into anger and all she could think about was revenge. Time was running out, Jack could be lying there bleeding or … no, she refused to think that. Regardless of what they had done, she would hunt them down and make sure they hanged.

Her hands moved to the top shelf, continuing to search for a box or loose cartridges. She stretched as far as she could into the corner. Nothing, she tried the other corner. Her fingers brushed up against the edge of a box. Her heart leapt and she jumped, reaching back with the extra height of the jump to grab it. Yes! She sobbed in relief and quickly loaded the gun, thankful for the lesson she had the one time she agreed to shoot clay pigeons with stuffy aristocrats in England. She snapped the gun closed and moved quickly to the door of the room, listening for any signs of danger. When she was sure it was safe, she slowly moved out of the darkness.

* * *

><p>Jack<p>

Jack walked from the trees, trying to look nonchalant, hoping they would think he was here alone and out for an evening stroll. He was still feeling shattered by Phryne's departure and he clung to the small splinter of hope he had managed to salvage before stepping out of the trees. He distracted himself by wondering how they had found them. He cast his mind back to the argument that they had in her parlour before she agreed to accompany him here. She was right but he was too angry with her to consider it: there had to be police on Roberts' payroll; someone who knew someone that could either access his records or knew that he came here often. How could he have been so stupid?

Jack was ambushed before he got to the porch. They had emerged from the bushes that lined the drive and stood behind trees, yelling at him to stay where he was. He sized them up; there were two of them: one small and wiry, the other predictably tall and hefty, probably the gang's muscle. He was pointing a gun at Jack. The small one looked like an old jockey, wrinkled and skinny and just over five foot. Despite his diminutive size, he had the air of a man who was on the brink of something big; he presumably worked for the heir to the throne. He wore a shabby jacket that was clearly too big for him and he puffed on cigarette that hung out of the corner of his mouth. Jack wondered why they were doing this now rather than ambushing them in the middle of the night. They looked impatient and wired, like time was running out for them. He figured they had a deadline to meet.

Jack pretended to be startled and stopped by the car. The larger of the two with the gun stayed back, positioning himself behind a tree, nervously glancing around him, not knowing if Phryne was armed somewhere out there. He wasn't too worried: she was only a woman after all. The smaller one smirked and casually swaggered towards him, oozing bravado, knowing the big bloke had his back. Jack suspected he was carrying a pistol under his jacket. "Hands in the air, copper," he said calmly. "Don't even think about moving or we'll blow ya pretty head off."

Jack froze. He slowly raised his arms. He didn't need to pretend to be scared; his heart was thumping in his chest. There were at least two of them, maybe more in the car. He quickly tried to work out how to play this, but was feeling slow witted from his lingering hangover and unusually panicked. He was usually level headed and focused in dangerous situations and apart from a few lucky escapes he had always felt in control, but this was different; this was about Phryne and he was unarmed at gunpoint, here at the homestead by people who wanted her dead.

The small one moved towards him and checked him for a weapon. He took a step back and spoke again. His voice was surprisingly deep for a man of his size. "Where the fuck is she and don't play dumb with me, I know you took her somewhere. Frankie here is a very good shot, so you need to tell us if she's in the house with a weapon or he'll shoot you."

Jack tried to remain calm. He took a deep breath and looked down at him. "She's not in the house. She's not here … she's far from here; somewhere safe where you will never find her."

"Is that so," he said, smirking. He took a drag on his cigarette and blew smoke slowly towards Jack. "So if we were to go for a little wander around this lovely house of yours, we wouldn't find any traces of her?" He raised his voice, clearly annoyed. "Whadya take me for, a fuckin' drongo? I know all about you two. I don't think you would have let her out of your sight." He nodded slowly, "She's in there, and when we find her, well, I think we might have a bit of fun with her, Frankie and me. She's a looker, that's for sure."

Jack shut his eyes and tried to get the image out of his head. He tried to look calm but he was sweating and clearly affected by his words, despite knowing that they were meant to rattle him. "Aw, look Frankie, it's true, our copper friend fancies the Honourable _Miss Fisher._" Her name came out as a hiss. "I've changed my mind. We'll kill him after we have fun with her … so he can watch."

Jack felt a new wave of panic. What kind of sick bastards were these people? He knew he didn't have long. Once they saw she had been in the house they would kill him. Where was she? Surely she would be under the house by now and would have retrieved the ... Shit! The gun … He didn't put it away but left it just inside the door rather than navigate the bicycles and tools that littered the path to the cupboard in his rushed and tipsy state. He needed to stall them to give her time to find it but he couldn't decide how to play it; his brain wasn't working and he was numb with fear. He needed to appear to be confident. He breathed in slowly and deeply and lifted his head and stared down at him. "Who told you she was here? One of your mates? The bent copper? Don't you think I factored all of that in? I knew you'd come here looking for her. And anyway, how can you be sure you weren't sent on a wild goose chase. I can't imagine there'd be a lot of trust between you, we know you've been killing each other to get the top job." Jack was rambling, saying the first thing that came into his head. He tried to keep his voice level despite the hammering in his chest. "We know who the bent copper is," he continued, "so you won't get away with this. It's amazing what people remember when they are faced with the noose."

The small one smiled and then looked annoyed. Not the response Jack was hoping for. "Shut ya trap, copper. One more word from you and Frankie here will shoot you. He won't kill you, just maim you a little so you die slowly. He twisted his body to talk to Frankie. His jacket shifted, exposing part of the pistol he had tucked in the band of his trousers. "Whadyareckon Frankie? I reckon she's inside. Maybe shooting her _sweetheart_ here," he said, looking back at Jack with disgust, "will bring her out. Or maybe she's already run away. Maybe she's deserted you? Used you and then bolted," he taunted. "I reckon she'd do that. She seems the type. I'll give you one more chance, copper, where is she?"

Jack was silent, his chest heaved with his ragged breathing. He was exhausted and felt very, very alone. He hung his head and fought back tears; everything was going wrong. He didn't know what to say.

"I think we should shoot him, Percy," Frankie called from behind the tree.

Jack's head snapped back up, his eyes wide with fear. "Yeah, you're right, Frankie, another dead copper's got to be a good thing, right?" Percy looked at Jack almost pitifully and then turned back to Frankie. "Shoot him!"

Jack looked at Frankie take aim. His knees started to shake as he stared down the barrel of the gun. He held his breath and watched as he started to squeeze the trigger. He couldn't help but close his eyes. He was sweating profusely and fought panic. He thought of Phryne; he loved her, god he loved her, but he had failed her. He was going to die, he was certain of that now, and he felt sick at the thought of what they would they do to her if they caught her. Despite the panic and fear, he held his head high and waited for the inevitable. He heard the gun blast and the shatter of glass and felt himself stagger backwards. He fell against the climbing roses that wound around the post on the verandah, their thorns digging into him and keeping him upright. He felt the sting of the thorns on his back as they held him in place. The pain, the sweet pain, he was alive! He opened his eyes to see the two of them grinning at him. He looked over at the car; the shot had shattered one of the side windows.

They both stood there laughing at him. They fell silent and looked at Jack quietly for a while, allowing him some time alone with his thoughts. "Nearly shit yerself, did ya?" Percy laughed. "You shoulda seen the look on your face." He came closer to Jack and pushed him hard against the roses. Jack clenched his jaw and grimaced in pain. "We won't miss next time, so I suggest you tell us where she is."

Jack opened his eyes and looked at him. He clenched his jaw, anger now working its way to the surface. Those fucking bastards, he thought, how fucking dare they do this to him, to Phryne and to this beautiful place. They would kill him anyway, so he may as well go down fighting. He knew if he tried to get the gun from the band of Percy's pants Frankie would shoot him. The only way to play it was to use Percy as a shield. Jack flicked his eyes to look at Frankie's revolver. It was powerful enough to send a bullet through both their bodies from that distance.

The adrenaline and his anger had sharpened his mental acuity. He could only presume that Phryne had found the gun by now and he knew she was savvy enough to check it for ammunition. He took a deep breath; he made up his mind: he would go for the gun. He opened his eyes and stared at Percy, who shouted at him. "I said where the fuck is she!" He shook Jack, his tiny fists gripping Jack's shirt, his rancid breath in his face. Jack felt the sting of the thorns and slumped his body in the hope that he would think that he had given up, and as soon as Percy loosened his grip, he made his move.

* * *

><p>Phryne<p>

Phryne walked out of the room. It was twilight; that moment when daytime ceases before night-time begins, when time is suspended and nothing is as it seems. It felt surreal, like a dream and she moved in slow motion, wading through the thick, eerie light. She brought herself back to her awful reality and focused on the birds, who always seemed troubled by this time of day, squabbling and jostling for space before bedding down for the night. They drowned out any conversation, which worked in her favour: no-one would hear her coming. She slowly moved out from underneath the verandah and confident that she was not being watched, ran to hide behind the large water tank that was nestled into a high retaining wall that ran perpendicular to the house. She crouched as low as possible and made her way around the tank, thankful for the good cover. It's now or never, she told herself. She blew out a breath, steeled herself and prepared to climb up the wall for a look. The light was quite dim now, which gave her confidence that she would be able to peek over the wall without being seen. She stayed close to the water tank and looked for footholds so she could climb higher to support the shotgun on top of the wall. She leaned the gun up against the wall and climbed. A rock jutted out just enough for her to get a toehold and she pushed herself up to peer over the top. She could hear the voices more clearly now.

"I said where the fuck is she!"

He was alive! Relief flooded through her. She felt ecstatic and her confidence returned; she was certain they would get out alive now. She could see well in the low light, especially after moving from the dimness of the room under the house, and she immediately detected the movement of a large man holding a gun. He was partly obscured by a tree. Frankie, she was sure of it; strong but dim witted and if Frankie was here, then no doubt Percy was here too. She watched him closely as she leant down and picked up the shotgun. Her balance was precarious, so she lifted the gun slowly, tucking the butt of the stock into the crook of her shoulder and took aim at Frankie. She crouched down and put her finger on the first of the two triggers. Just as she was wondering how to proceed, the quiet erupted into yells and scuffles. "Shoot him, Frankie, shoot him!" Her heart leapt in her chest. Jack was taking them on.

* * *

><p>Jack<p>

Jack grabbed Percy's shirt with one hand and hit him in the face with his fist. He had one hand to keep him close as a shield from a bullet, and one to stop him reaching for his gun. Percy's eyes widened and he looked at him, momentarily shocked that Jack had decided to take him on. His right hand reached for his gun as his left tried to push himself away from Jack, but Jack's grip was strong, they twisted as they scuffled, Percy frantically calling for Frankie to shoot. They moved away from the porch, clutching at each other, turning and twisting in a frenzied waltz. Jack managed to keep Percy between him and Frankie's gun until Percy's feet hit the rocky border of the drive and he tumbled backwards. Jack fell on top of him, now completely exposed and no closer to getting Percy's gun. Jack looked at Frankie, who stiffened and took aim.

"FRANKIE!"

Jack looked up at the sound of her voice. Frankie twisted towards the side of the house and emerged from the tree with his gun aimed at her. Jack heard two shots: the shotgun and pistol firing almost simultaneously. He saw Frankie fly backwards and felt a glimmer of hope. Phryne would come and save him now, he just had to stop Percy from getting his gun.

Percy head-butted Jack, stunning him and loosening his grip on his arms. Jack grunted in pain and they scuffled on the ground, both knocking their hands away from each other, as fists sought faces and fingers sought eyes. Percy managed to get a hand to Jack's face but it was slippery with blood that now poured from Jack's nose. Jack called to Phryne to help him, desperate for her help now; Percy was small but he was strong. Where was she? Why wasn't she coming to help him? He pushed away panic and focused on getting the gun; his life depended on this struggle and he gathered what strength he had left.

Percy managed to punch Jack in the temple and grabbed his gun from the ground where it had fallen from his pants. Jack was quick and knocked it out of his blood-soaked hand. They heard it clatter against the stones that lined the garden bed. They both scrambled for it, their feet unable to get purchase on the loose stones of the drive, so they scuttled on all fours. Percy was slightly ahead of Jack and he looked back and kicked him in the side of his head, throwing himself on the gun. Jack groaned but kept coming, throwing himself on top of him and pinning down the hand that held the gun. Percy twisted under him to shoot him just as Jack reached for a rock the size of his palm. They looked at each other, both wide-eyed and panting, both of them knowing they were seconds from death. Percy turned and fired just as Jack managed to push Percy's arm away from him slightly. The noise was deafening and Jack felt the bullet sail close to his head. His fingers gripped the rock tightly and he brought it down hard on his head. Percy groaned and fell backwards, dazed from the blow. Jack reached for the gun, but Percy was not giving in yet and gripped it tightly. Jack raised his arm and again smashed the rock into his skull, sickened by the sound of it but desperate now. Percy went limp and let go of the gun. Jack grabbed it and tried to stand. His legs gave way and he staggered backwards, falling onto the stones. He was breathing hard. He stared at the gun in his hand in confusion. He was numb; the shock of the fight and his injuries had dazed him, and he was unsure of what to do next. His breathing was shallow and rapid and he started to sweat. Snippets of the evening came back to him. He again looked at the gun and then it hit him. Phryne.

He got to his feet and stumbled, falling on all fours. He looked over at Percy lying lifeless in front of him. It was quite dark now but he could just make out the dark stain of blood on the stones that had spread from his head. Jack looked at his hand that still gripped the rock. He cried out in horror at what had just happened and he flung it from his hand. Phryne! Where was Phryne, what had happened to her? He managed to stand and staggered to where Frankie was. As dazed as he was he knew he had to secure the scene and get Frankie's gun. He reached the tree and leant against it to support him as he looked at the body on the ground. Jack turned quickly away and vomited, falling to his knees, coughing and retching. Frankie wasn't going anywhere.

He slowly stood up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He was dizzy and turned slowly to walk to the side of the house, knowing that he might find her dead too. He was dreaming, he must be dreaming. He stumbled the short distance to the wall on unsteady legs and looked down. He sucked in a breath. She had been thrown backwards beyond the water tank and lay twisted, face down, the shotgun lying close by. He let out a sob and jumped down, desperate now to get to her. He skidded to her on the sloping ground, turning her and roughly pulling her into his arms. He was sobbing now, rocking back and forth as he cradled her limp body. He was shaking his head and struggling to breathe.

"NOOO! NO, NO, NO!"

He snapped back his head and howled. He had lost her. He had failed to protect her and now she was gone. He sobbed as he gathered her closer and buried his face in her neck. He pressed his cheek to hers and in between sobs he whispered, "I love you Phryne, I love you." He sat with her in his arms for a short while, and calmed by his own words, he quietened and his sobs slowly subsided. He looked at her face in the dark, reaching out to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. How could he ever recover from this? He leant down and kissed her softly on the lips. "I'm so sorry, Phryne," he whispered. "My love, my beautiful Phryne." He let out a sob again and gently stroked her face. He moved his thumb across her forehead and down the side of her face and along her jaw. As he gently traced her lips with his fingers, she opened her eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

_A quick note to say thank you for taking the time to leave a comment. As I have said before, I really love reading them and knowing that you are still reading my story. _

_I'd also like to wish you a very merry holiday season, whatever you are celebrating, and let you know that I will be away and will not be posting another chapter for a few weeks. Even I need to recover from that last chapter ..._

* * *

><p>Jack sucked in a breath. Could it be true? The clouds had come back, blocking the stars and the light. He leaned in closer to look at her face. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened them and blinked slowly. His head was ringing from the gun blast next to his ear so he twisted his neck and put his good ear to her mouth. Her breathing was shallow and laboured but she was alive! Jack looked at her and was suddenly terrified that he may lose her again. What should he do? He was stricken with uncertainty and stilled, worried that any movement would cause her to die in his arms.<p>

He felt her move and she groaned softly. He looked at her again and wailed. _Phryyyneee_. He was sure now she would die. He sat there rocking her, his wet cheek against hers, waiting for her to take her last breath, waiting to feel her body sink into his arms as death claimed her.

Phryne moved again, more forcibly this time and sucked in a breath with the pain. She reached up and placed her hand where it hurt and felt the lump on her head. What had just happened? She was dizzy and confused and the intense pain in her head made her feel nauseous. "Jack?" Her voice was barely a whisper. How did she get here and why was Jack crying? She groaned and gave into the pain and let her arm flop back to her body. She was tired and she wanted to sleep as she let her body sink into his arms. Jack started to sob and pulled her closer. Phryne cried out in pain as Jack pressed into her shoulder. She was feeling less groggy now and she focussed on Jack. He was weeping and rocking her gently. She tried to remember what had just happened. She felt dazed and unfocused and she fought the urge to go back to sleep. Something was wrong, she needed to wake up and she frowned in frustration as she struggled with memories that were just past her reach. She remembered gunshot and birds and cupboards in dark places. She felt like someone had taken her memories and shuffled them; her mind now dealing her snippets of disarranged images: mistletoe, gates, kissing and grasses.

She blinked a few times and opened her eyes. She was starting to feel less dizzy and groaned again with the intense pain in her head and her shoulder. What had caused the pain in her shoulder? She remembered leaning into something that was hard and cold with something tucked into her shouder. Her mind dealt her a gunshot. The wall, the shotgun! The memories returned: Frankie and Percy, Jack without a weapon. She remembered now; she had climbed the wall and pointed the gun at Frankie. The last thing she remembered was Frankie turning to her with his gun raised. He was going to shoot her. She had to know what happened and she tried to sit up, her head throbbing, but Jack held her tight. "Jack! You're alright! What happened? Where are Frankie and Percy?" She spoke slowly and her words were slurred.

Jack stiffened and laid her down gently on the ground. What should he do? He was still panting and sweating, terrified that she would still die. He hadn't assessed her injuries, he seemed incapable of making a decision and was rigid with uncertainty. She tried to sit up but he stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Ow!" Jack quickly removed his hands, his eyes wide. "Jack, help me up." He stared at her. "Jack! Help me sit up." What was he doing? Phryne held out her left arm. He looked at her for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. He finally reached out to her and pulled her into a sitting position. Phryne's hand flew to the back of her head as the throbbing intensified from the change in position. "My head! Jack, what happened? Are you alright?"

Jack stared at her. "I, I thought you were dead, Phryne. I thought I had lost you," he whispered, his shaky voice barely audible. He sucked in a breath and hung his head. Phryne could just make out the movement of his shoulders as he cried in the dark. She shuffled closer to him and reached out to touch him, grasping the back of his neck with her left hand to pull him closer. "It's alright, Jack", she said soothingly into his neck, I am alright. Are you alright? Tell me Jack, I need to know. What about Percy and Frankie? What happened? Are we safe?"

Jack stayed where he was, still crying, slowly shaking his head. Phryne moved back from him and reached out to tug at his shoulder. "JACK! You need to tell me, are we safe?" Phryne was worried now: he was in a bad way. She was desperate to know what had happened but couldn't get through to him. She knew the signs, he was in shock, and she needed to get him inside, to get him warm. "Jack, listen to me, I'm alright, I have hurt my shoulder and I hit my head and passed out, but I'm alright. I need to get inside. I need you to help me, Jack, I need to get inside." She tried to stand but the pain in her head and her shoulder was almost too much to bear. She sat back down and clenched her jaw. After a short while she stood up slowly, her right hand gripping her clothes to take the weight off her shoulder. She placed her other hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she slowly pushed her way up, her hand in a fist to protect her sore palm. When she was up she reached down and gently shook him. "Jack, take me inside, we need to get inside. We need to make sure we are both safe."

Jack stopped crying and looked up at her. She held out her hand for him, as a mother would do to a young child. "Here, take my hand. I'm alright Jack, but I need to make sure you are. C'mon." She tried to sound normal but was feeling nauseous from the pain in her shoulder and throb in her head. She must have fired the shotgun and hit her head when she flew backwards, presumably from the recoil. How long was she unconscious for? She could only presume that Frankie and Percy were both dead and wondered if she had shot Frankie. She shuddered at the thought of it. Everything was coming back to her now.

Jack had stopped crying now but had not taken her hand. "Please Jack. We need to get inside. I need to lie down."

Jack turned his head to look at her slowly, just making out her silhouette against the faint glow of the sky. He still couldn't believe it: she was alive. He didn't take her hand, but got on all fours and slowly pushed himself up, swaying a bit from dizziness and the slope of the ground. Phryne was suddenly worried that he was badly injured. Had he been shot? All the more reason to get him inside. He stood beside her and she reached out to take his hand; the tips of her fingers entwined in his to protect her sore palm. She set off slowly and fought back nausea as the pain from her head and her shoulder threatened to overwhelm her, reverting to the dreamlike state she experienced when she first came out of the room under the house. They walked the long way to the front of the house as neither of them was fit to scramble up the wall or walk through the thick bush. Jack walked a step behind her, pulled along by her tight grip on his fingers, his ragged breathing spurring her on.

They laboured up past the tree by her window and around the garden bed to the path that led to the house. They got to the car and she felt Jack slow and she turned to look at to him. He stiffened and stopped, not wanting to go any further. She followed his gaze and could just make out a body lying mostly in the garden bed on the other side of the path. Percy. She wondered if she should check for a pulse, convinced now that Jack in a state of shock may have neglected to do so, but was worried that it would cause him further distress. She would get him inside and do it later.

"Not far now Jack, we have to get you inside." She stood next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist to guide him forwards, feeling him tremble, and he eventually moved with her, past the post with the roses and onto the porch. She let go of him to open the door and enter the house. She was really worried now; he was clearly in a very bad way. Phryne walked on ahead and turned on the lamp in the living room, shutting her eyes from the sudden glare of the light and the pain that it caused in her head. Jack remained by the door on the porch and she returned to gently coax him inside. As she drew him into the soft light, she gasped at his appearance and her eyes filled with tears. He was bloodied and bruised, his face swollen from Percy's fists and from crying. His hands were also covered in blood and his knuckles were puffy and grazed. Phryne felt ill and she felt tears run down her face, the pressure from crying causing more pain in her head. He stood there staring blankly at the fireplace as she looked for blood on the front of his shirt. She moved behind him and frowned at the pattern of blood on his back. She took off his shirt and gasped at the wounds and deep scratches. What had happened to him? Was he tortured? How could they do this to him? She ran her fingertips gently over his back and he flinched. She turned him to get a better look in the light from the lamp and she found several thorns still embedded in his back.

She sat him down on one of the couches and went to run him a bath and get him a blanket, taking a detour to her room to get aspirin for them both. She had momentarily forgotten about her injuries but her head was still pounding and her shoulder was incredibly sore but it wasn't dislocated. She knew she was lucky; she could have been shot or died from hitting her head. She knelt before him and wrapped him in the blanket, holding the edges together just under his chin. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Jack, are they dead?" Jack slowly raised his head and stared at her blankly, blinking slowly. "Are they dead Jack; I just need to know we are safe."

He hung his head and nodded. A tear slid down his face and he raised his head to look at her. His ear was still ringing but he wasn't feeling so dizzy. He was still trembling but the fog in his brain was starting to lift and he saw her for the first time since the fight. He barely recognised her: her hair was matted with mud and her face was dirty but he could see that she was covered in cuts and welts from running through the bush. He looked at her hands that were holding the blanket together. They were bloodied and raw; most of the skin had been scraped off the heel of her palms. He frowned as he reached out to push her hair from her face, gently tracing her scratches. He had flashes of horror, of stones and eyes wide with panic and he remembered looking for her after she had left him alone and run back to the house. Despite all that had happened, it was the image of her crumpled body that was causing him to tremble. His eyes welled up again and he shut them tightly; he just couldn't stop crying. He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

He opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings. Phryne was still kneeling in front of him, watching his every move. He was warmer now and he felt like he was being slowly pulled back to the present; being swaddled in a blanket and sitting in the soft glow of the lamp in the lounge room had soothed him and he started to relax a little. The empty couch beside him beckoned him, and he decided he would lie down and fall asleep with his family around him in front of the fire. He slowly lay down on the couch and put his bloodied and sore head on a cushion. Phryne worked quickly to take his muddy shoes off, letting him do what he needed to do; the bath could wait. He sighed as he closed his eyes and balled his swollen hands into loose fists which he tucked under his chin.

Phryne got off her knees and sat on the lounge with him. She lay her arm along his body, like a grotesque parody of the time she was pressed up against him three nights ago, looking longingly at his handsome features. Now she sat with him and cried, trying to avoid looking at his bloodied and beaten face. She was exhausted and also wanted to lie down but there was work to do. There were bodies outside and as much as she hated them for what they had done, she couldn't leave them there overnight: they would be mauled by animals. She slowly shook her head as she cried. She wanted someone to soothe her, to help her help Jack. She felt alone and isolated and although she was in no state to do it, she would have to leave him and somehow drive into town and alert the police. She listened to his ragged breathing and felt the tremble in his body and she started to sob; despite surviving the attack in one piece, she felt they were falling apart. All she could manage was to stay close to him in the hope that he would feel loved and cared for.

Jack heard her crying and felt the sobs from her body against his. He opened his eyes to look at her and he finally seemed to register that she was also in a bad way. He reached out to pull her closer, and she let herself be pulled onto the lounge to lie next to him, their faces almost touching, her knees drawn up against him. He smelt strongly of blood and vomit, but she moved her face so she could kiss him softly on the forehead, her fingers gently caressing his hair. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around her tightly and she felt a glimmer of hope that they would get through this and everything would eventually be alright.


End file.
